I hold you in my arms
while you are dying.
We are lying on your bed together.
The pillows are puffed like clouds
and the blanket covers us like bath water.
Your labored breathing quiets itself
into a steady, shallow rhythm.
A harpist is playing, her fingers
making music with the air between the strings.
You ask me where we are.
“We are in The Palace of Tranquil Longevity with
Qianlong, the Chinese Emperor.
He is bringing you your favorite foods
and your favorite books. He has red flowers
with the scent of Byzance and he has plucked
one petal to dab behind your ear.”
In a whisper, you tell him about the good years
of your life and the friends who loved you,
and Qianlong listens and says,
“I am happy you are ending with good recollections.”
Around the palace, the work is stopping.
Everyone is listening for your breath.
© Evie Safran, 2015
The Emperor's Garden in the Palace of Tranquil Longevity complex Photo by Francisco Anzola from Wikimedia Commons |