As I touched death for a moment...

I touched death today,
for a moment,
it had the smell of people's voices
someone screaming,
a woman cried.
A taste of blood rolling down the cheeks,

'Is it ok to wipe out the blood of the stranger without plastic gloves that would provide atmosphere sterile enough to prevent the transmission of a deadly disease?'

Cerebral thinking took over,
Ice, bring ice.
bring ice and keep it on the neck.
Bring ice and keep in on the forehead.
Ice stops bleeding,
Ice stops pain,
Ice stops my fear,
Ice stops me from breathing in the helplessness of the situation.
Ice stops my feelings and allows me to think clearly for a moment in the crowd of people.
Ice, someone bring ice, please.

Can you look at my finger? can you look at my finger? can you look at my finger?
Blink if you hear me.

Can you look at me? Can you finally look at me? Can you see me and who I am?
Can you give me a sign that you hear?

Now that the ambulance came
and the crowd dispersed
I am sitting on my bed
as a tiny finger of death pokes my arm.
And I get scared of people screaming,
of not having space to breathe,
of the pain in my head,
of the grotesque of the singular experience in the crowd...

And I ask death
that when she comes back again
she could please choose the time when a cat curls at my feet
and you hold my hand in a quiet space of the house
and the ice melts quietly and drips down your cheek
but your eyes are still looking into mine long after I seize to see the last ray of the falling sun.
Good night.