Seeing Death

(grandfather just minutes before his death)

What was he seeing? The old man in the hospital.

The look of dumb agony, the appeal for relief, of helpless love, eyes fixed on me.

Why did they move away? What drew their gaze?

They look to my right, they look to my left,

They look behind me.

I turn behind: no one there.

No one to my right

No one to my left.

Yet he seems to see something.

Why did his eyebrows lift?

Why did his lips part?

I am frightened.

I press his old, gnarled hand.
He looks back at me.

His look relaxes, the eyebrows untangle.

I am relieved.

There again, he looks away from me

Looks to my right

Looks to my left

To my right, to my left

My right, my left

Right, left

Right, left.

Then above my head, and all over the room.

The eyes move dizzy-paced.

Fixes on the door, then the window

Perturbed, amazed,

Terrified, maybe horrified?

Then back to my face.

Puzzled, worried

Does he see me?

Does he know me?

No more.

What does he see?

Why are his lips sealed?

So near a secret, yet so far.