There was a holy place made with the screens
Where lay the old man, trembling into dream.
His face was pale, his nose felt like white ice
An offering on the block for sacrifice.
The sacred place was marked by song and prayer
Made quietly so no-one else would hear.
He held my hand and whispered, please don’t go.
I held him in my heart, as his went slow.
A cocoon made in noisy A and E
A strange place for the Lady God to be.
Deep silence underneath the usual noise,
Pierced only by my child-like singing voice.
I saw his soul, my tears made stiff curtains
Hidden so, I felt the weight of pain.
I felt my heart crack, struck by loss and grief
Death had been there like a silent thief.
His pale face on the pillow seemed to smile
The kindness of strange angels did beguile