Go, Kitty, Go

Thank you, birds,
for singing on and on
as my wife lay dying in her hospice bed.
Your songs fixed me in the moment,
made me look
rather than look away
when her breathing became so labored
her body rocked like a broken machine.
Your cheery conversations seemed so inappropriate at first,
but then I realized you were cheering her on.
“Go, Kitty, go”, you were saying,
as the energy that once busied her fingers
and hoisted her smile
escaped from her body
to power the universe in new ways.

Thank you, birds,
for revealing the truth about death:
that it is merely a rumor
spread by those
who have yet to glimpse eternity.


John Ptacek