With each straining breath, a part of him is lost,
carried from his dying body, infusing in the molecules of the air around us.
His face changes as his soul departs.
A pallid hue drapes his cold dried skin,
droplets of a final tear teeter at the corner of his closing eyes.
He said he was scared; In his voice I heard him as a small boy.
Long slow breaths, peaceful now,
outside the rain thunders against the ground.
Holding his hand, hoping for a final gentle squeeze,
now silence, soon broken by the sobs of my siblings.