TOGETHER ARETHA MATT
Shimá sání lay there quietly, eyes closed,
where the grandchildren quietly cried,
breathing,
they hugged us and wiped away our tears,
seemingly unaware.
Shimá sání,
Before she closed her eyes that day,
left us that day,
shimá sání asked that we all come, sons, daughters,
together
grandchildren, the family. She did not speak, maybe, it was because she had already left, or maybe, she just wanted to listen. For hours, she lay quietly and refused to go; she lay quietly and refused to come back. Before the sun set that day, shimá sání made the daughters weep, when her body finally told us, it was time; time to let go, time to say goodbye. Shimá, her daughter, cried out in agony and her body shook with disbelief; She was the oldest of her daughters and knew shimá sání the best. Shimá and her sisters held hands and sat around their mother’s bed; they watched and prayed as they disconnected their mother from this world and then cried like small children when shimá sání took her last breath. When they returned to the waiting room
2021 RED MESA REVIEW | 86
