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Death, be proud

Death can be so peaceful, or so gruesome.
I thought I could tell when it is peaceful and when it is gruesome.
Now I know I was wrong.

The lady pulled out her tracheostomy tube right in front of me, turned blue and expired.
People were screaming,
Some staring in silent disbelief,
At death, so near.

But her face,
Pallid and blue at the same time,
A strange color you don't often see,
Her face was so peaceful.

As if she had finally done what she had always wanted to do,
As if she was done with all the nonsense that was being done to her body
And she seemed to be smiling in her death with her eyes open.

And I am sitting here, confused beyond words.
And an image that refuses to go away.
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