I stood at the threshold,
knocked twice, heard a voice,
a polite invitation to enter.
Pushing the door, stepping inside,
a clinician leaned over the bed,
lifting an eye from its socket.
Our gazes locked in a twin stare,
her expression mixed with surprise,
\"Oh,\" was all she managed to say.
\"I came to visit Mrs. ____,\" I said,
my words hanging in the sterile air,
\"the patient,\" I added, unnecessarily.
She paused, eye still in hand,
\"She died a few minutes ago,\"
her voice a soft, factual whisper.
\"She\'s a donor,\" she explained,
the room now an altar of transition,
life giving way to another life,
leaving me standing in the doorway,
a witness to a silent, gentle passing,
the unblinking eye forever seeing.