stripped
seems too harsh a word
to describe
how life was taken from you.
the angel came
hovered by your hospital bed.
a bed i’ve since imagined to be:
white
with pale blue sheets —
a color you would have felt comfortable
slipping away in.
the angel was silent
except for the soft whispers
floating throughout the room,
telling your daughters
and son
and husband
who she came for.
when no one knew
what else to say,
a silence hung around you
like a canopy,
soft and dreamy,
like the one i had
in my childhood bedroom.
the angel disrobed you of life, slowly
treating your memories as clothes.
she folded them carefully,
placed them
in the top drawer of
your dresser, where your husband
continues to search for you.
we still think the angel shouldn’t
have left you naked, but you
were ready for life to be
stripped.