Left Holding the Gifts
August 10, 2017
I Guess Her Mother has Pneumonia
August 10, 2017


Through the Eye of My Lens

I met Mary through the lens of my camera.

With each fire of my shutter

I would capture the last details of Mary’s life here.

As she lay in bed still, her frail body unable to move

a black cat nestled at her feet.

Her soft white hair matched her skin.


Could she feel the warmth?

Could she hear the whispers of those she loved

of those who waited with bated breath?

“11 days, no food, no water.

What is she waiting for?” they asked of each other.

“Don’t leave until you’re ready, whispered another directly into her ear.


Everyone photographs the living.

No one photographs the dying.

Sherry Day

2013 March eleven