Butterfly in Reverse

I remember teaching some kids
"A verb is an action word."
Yet
watching your last breath leads me to believe
dying isn't much of a verb at all.

It's more of an adjective.
A describing word.
It's your
sunken cheekbones
stick think fingers
dull eyes
pale skin.
Not an action.
A depiction.

Someone once told me,
"Dying is a wild night and a new road."
Now I realize, dying isn't wild at all.
It is surprisingly mundane.
Almost
easy.
Not
quite.

You lie here in a hospital gown.
The last dress you'll ever wear.
You open your eyes, and I know it is for the last time.
Watching you is like watching
a butterfly in reverse.
Your eyes close.
Back in the cocoon for you.

Your heart beat slows.
The beeps crawl to a flatline.
The most haunting melody known to man.
You aren't quite alive
but aren't quite gone.
Your hands are still warm.

The Hebrew Scriptures say
"They shall all sit under their
own vines and under their
own fig trees, and
no one shall make them afraid."
Wherever you are now,
I can only hope you are no longer afraid.

You are sailing to an island unknown.
I will join you someday.
I can only hope I will go as gracefully as you did.
My butterfly in reverse.

-annmarwalker, Anne