Tommy had sat for three days next to his wife’s bed. Sometimes he held her hand. Sometimes he dabbed her brow with a cool flannel. Her breathing was a little laboured. The liver cancer had hit fast, but these last three days of waiting were slow.
She seemed to settle for the night; another long night.
And then the breathing changed.
And then a stillness came.
Tommy sat for an hour before phoning anyone.
To think, starlight in the pond
travelled millions of years to reach us;
no one saw it,
or if they did, nothing was said.
To think, each leaf trembling on the tree
is unique among billions;
no one saw it,
or if they did, nothing was said.
To think, the threatening cloud growling beyond hills
was formed by eons of conniving concocting weather systems;
no one saw it,
or if they did, nothing was said.
To think, the baby born somewhere today in a slum,
unique among billions, is dead;
no one saw it,
or if they did, nothing was said.
