In the beginning, there was only sadness. (Part 1)

Broken Morse-code pierced the formaldehyde-stained air,
tracking the ever-dulling beats of your blessed heart.
Your eyes were watching God and your calloused hands
labored to soothe the ache residing deep within our souls.
Whispered words rested heavily on the backs of angels'
wings and provoked a communal, bated breath -
Ticking hands slowed by borrowed time draped mortgaged
seconds, like prayer beads, atop your shuddering chest.
Memories of a forgotten culture take root in your thinning
hair, complimenting the sorrow of sea-stories and
impoverished beginnings that hung from the deepened
wrinkles of your laugh-lines, tugging at the skin like an
impatient child, but more devious - like millstones around
your tired neck; encumbrance lay silently in wait -
as familiar as the scent of your deceased husband's cologne,
as permanent as cancer and as fierce as day-old hate.
The depth of your suffering flickered within your eyes,
A war that could neither be fought nor won waged in
every cell within you and your crumbling facade made
for silent prayers from the hopeful hopeless in hospital
pews; the stuttering monitor hiccuped as the strength
in your guided fingertips fluctuated, then drifted away,
The clock stopped ticking - the world held its breath
When God called you home today.