Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 06/25/21

The Whisper

The four year old dying
From cancer
Nauseous, bald, sallow
Gazed up at her mother

And said, Mommy let’s be hopeful
Just for today, me and you
Please don’t cry
Let’s play a game

To which she added,
I will be okay. I can
Make a place for you
In heaven, and for daddy

We’ll be together again.
I’m just going first
To make it ready
For us

It came as a whisper
Without a tear
Except for the flood from her mother’s eyes
As the child expired with a smile.

©2021 el gallo sabio All rights reserved.

el gallo sabio

This was written by el gallo sabio, a mochillero who spends his days in an underground marijuana club in Barcelona where he consumes copious amounts of Polar, a Venezuelan cerveza, to charge the creative ions in his bones.

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