NaPoWriMo – Day 7

A Covid-19 Death

The dark encroaches upon
my light which is flickering.

A mask feeds me oxygen,
but I know it will not help.

I am like a boat becalmed
on some nameless sea. As I

draw each painful breath,
knowing soon it will be my

last one. I need, I want,
someone to hold my hand.

So that when I pass I am
not alone. All the staff are

kind, humane, but strangers.
They are all so busy, they

know I will not last the night.
My family, my friends are

not here. Not allowed to be.
I understand, I rationalize.

I want to scream out in
my loneliness and pain.

I remain silent, it takes me
too much breath to moan,

to whisper or even to gasp
someone’s name. A calmness

descends upon me, peaceful,
something, someone telling

me to let go, but limpet-like
I cling on. I am too scared

to let go, too frightened to hang on. I hear voices in or

outside of my head. “Come, sweet girl, ” my mother long

dead whispers in my ear. “Go to the light!” my Dad, even

longer dead, calls out, “Come to us, we are waiting for you”

The Darkness is pitch black, a faint light shines at the end

of a tunnel and suddenly, light as air, I am drawn to the

light, freed from my body, I gaze down at myself. The

machines emit the high pitched tone, DNR

so no-one touches me. A tear runs down a young nurse’s

cheek. This is a Covid-19 death, one of far too many.

Outside of my body, looking down, this new me, rushes down

the tunnel towards the light, to the end and beginning of what awaits me.

© Carolyn Crossley – The Vixen of Verse 2020.

*DNR = Do not resuscitate.