a thing for you. In the middle of the white-washed walls

of the hospital ward you lie, groaning quietly in the dark abyss of pain.

Only a miracle can bring you some relief. I have nothing to offer,

but a prayer. All my prayers reach the Almighty, an attempt I shall make.

I am trying to find ways to shake off His unbearable silence.

Desolation and numbness in your eyes drive me crazy and as

I leave the ward quietly, I hear the footsteps of death. I want to

cut off my ears to block their sound. But will that delay the advent of death?

From your voicelessness before death, I move towards your silence

after death – and I do not even want to feel angry or shed tears

at my helplessness.