The sickly sweet aroma of the elderly wafts
upwards as I walk through the hallways.
She sits on her bed, catatonic.
I cannot imagine what she sees or ponders about.
92 years of a woman ablaze in memorial -
as the fire works its way up the last standing tree,
her youthful eyes lock with mine.
She points her tongue.
Decades of loss, transmitted through a single gesture.
The woman is gone, her livelihood
enters the dustpan of the housekeeper.
The transcendence, of one choice
manifests in me.
Dearest Eve, the Holocaust survivor
Our matriarch, my grandmother,
Uttered no last words, but
Still able to recognize me in her darkest night.
