"He's dying," she says, As life seeps away In voiceless submission Of what it was taught, Where death is unknown And forever beckons The judgment throne Of a whimsical god. The family huddles To weep and recite Then sit back and sigh, "Alhamdulillah." In the still kitchen My face in my hands, I plead for mercy And hope big enough. In the stillness is Just the ticking clock: Tock. Tock. Tock.