Threads of Flesh and Silence
bone
white
scalpels
glinting cold
clean rooms still hold grief
fingers now trace the hollow eye
under bright lamps mothers weep as all hope goes away
lungs
slow
draw breath
death comes near
through IV tubes now
monitors now hum in dim rooms
I hold a warm patient hand as their true warmth now fades
blood
red
old scars
linger now
in dark quiet veins
pain threads through silent tapestries
I stitch both flesh and futures with fragile threads of hope
