A Startled Life

by Aanya F Niaz

on a bed, white as the shadows that ring true without the sun, crisp like a bed of fall leaves, veins bruised with blue, the hues of bloody fails, nestled above the ground but beneath the crowd awaiting her arrival, she silently wept but the eyes were too dim to let water appear, mother, she sighed in her head, i’m here, she cried, but no one heard because the tongue was numb yet on fire, but the brain was quietened by the sound of the ventilator that clutched every inch of oxygen that crept, beneath the soul of the organ, it said, i can breathe but no one could see her chest rise and fall because the machine said, she was dead, wide awake her fingers ached to make a move of an inch, like the ant-sized human existence we live within, but the monitor sustaining her heart beat drowned the sign of life inside of her, and she said, to herself, the time is clicking by and in 3 minutes i will die, but i’m alive and i’m high, higher than the ground beneath but lower than the sound of the machine that made her lungs breathe the air she needed to remain on this side, but the heavens above smiled back at her, and she ached with every organism to shake and startle her father’s eyes, but the silence of her body said she was to die and in 2 minutes, the she saw her brother cry, as if an epileptic attack was on the rise, and she wanted to rattle her bones and not die, but the white, crisp sheets didn’t lie, and the dripping morphine inched to her insides and her mind was alive but her body had died and she thought, in a minute i will no longer cry, but she wept in memory of tales of mother-daughter beach walks, and she felt the warmth of her father’s hands but she cried because, it was time to die

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