As death approaches,

    by Risa Denenberg

a willowy child hovers at the doorway. She

does not enter the sickroom with its odors

of urine and boiled cabbage. She will not touch

the ancient body, curled into itself like a comma

paused in wordless prayer. She tries to work out

what is happening here. No one explains.

Like the others, she holds her tears. Unbidden,

she mouths the unspoken—Thy will be done.

© 2012 Risa Denenberg

Risa Denenberg is an aging hippy currently living in Tacoma, WA. She earns her keep as a nurse practitioner and has worked in end-of-life care for many years. She is drawn to exploring themes of suffering and death and their intersections with religion, medicine, and art. Recent poems have appeared online at Sein und Werden, The Yale Journal of the Humanities in Medicine, YB, Lily, and Escape into Life.

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