Hazel Eyes Shutting

The curtain was pulled

Like on a toy train track

Around the bed where a lovely life

A short while ago, went to shock

The paediatric ICU beds were full

Balloons, IV tubes, even a priest was there

July was upon the Port of Baltimore

Yet nurses were teary-eyed, and only whispered

Sarah, the nurse who cared for those hazel eyes

Brought cotton balls and Q-tips to her side

The morphine had flattened the cardiogram

And bled her nose, for the last time

Mothers hugged their sons

In the beds near by

Fearing the Specter may, like the clown,

Go to the wrong bed to sing his lullaby

The priest stood without an outrage

Behind the curtain, looking at the floor

This was the second child, almost the same age

He had seen depart, after July fourth

Sarah wiped the child’s nose and silent lips as well

Then her own eyes, and with a steady hand

Sealed the nostrils in cotton, as if a goodnight kiss

Then hugged her mother, and retired without ease

The PICU was now quiet, even the monitors

Were turned down to shush their heartless beep

For life had become a passage, a simple colophon

In bed 18B, under the canopy of a graceful leap.

March 5, 2014

©Vahé Kazandjian, 2014