“Don’t worry my child,” her grandmother said,
“I knew one day soon I would go.
You must remain strong, the calm in the storm.
You must be strong, for your storm’s just begun”
“But Nana,” she said, “how will I cope?
How can I be so strong?”
“You already are as strong as can be, you just do not know it yet.
Now child, let me sleep, for my time is now.
Remember with love, what I’ve said,”
She’d known early on, as she’d entered the room
That tonight would be the last time she was there.
She’d known as she sat by the side of her bed
That her grandmother’s time had come.
She looked at her hair, so white and pure, like the fresh layer of snow on the ground.
Her eyes, still ajar, showed a sparkle of blue, like the bright winter sky outside.
On her frail little body, encased in her nest like the baby sparrows which next spring would see,
Hung a nightdress too big for her bird-like frame, as though trying on her mother’s best dress.
She held in her palms the tissue paper hands of her wise old grandmother, now quiet and still,
With the sun going down on Winter’s last day, her eyes close, her lips shut, nothing left for her to say.
One final wispy breath, one last squeeze of her hand,
She leaves this world behind.
Stretches her wings.
Never to return.