Three words

Last memory before the death,
Last flash of thought – what it will be?
When you are giving your last breath
For desperate pleading: “Look at me!”

Will you remember at first place
How you were naked, trapped, unmasked
Before his unforgiving gaze,
And you were whispering: “I… have asked”.

Or will you see that blackest day
When pain and grief had turned you mad,
When all the world was swept away
And you were crying: “Don’t! Gone…Dead”.

Or will it be the moment when
You learn – the stealing’s not enough
To own her gift to other man –
Her sacred name and “Lots of love”?

Or, maybe, it will be at last
A touch of peace before it ends –
Bright sun, the innocence of past,
And she is saying: “We are friends”.

And then the black eyes meet the green
And they are all you want to see.
Your light, your pain, your crime, your sin,
Your hope and prayer. Look… at… me…