Time of Death: 04:16

about the silence left behind, failed reanimation, and carrying grief out of the room.

Some deaths are sudden.
And some… wait for you.
Not out of mercy—
but so they can leave in your presence.

This poem was born from one of those moments.

We did what we’re trained to do—run, shock, breathe, call out into the static.
But some silences are louder than alarms.

The room had already changed.
It didn’t need us.
It had already become the kind of silence you only recognize if you’ve been there—
the kind that’s heavier than grief.
Stillness that wraps around your ankles like a decision already made.

This poem is for healthcare workers who carry ghosts.
For the hands that pretend a little longer—just in case.
For the ones who walk out… but don’t walk out whole.

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Poem 2: time of death: 04:16

Series: Where Nurses Go to Grieve Themselves
Section I: the weight of the first breath

We ran because the monitor said to,
but before the hallway had finished swallowing our footsteps,
the room had already chosen its silence—
and I knew, with a bone-deep certainty,
that we were late in a way time doesn’t measure.

The body was still warm,
like it hadn’t decided whether to stay or go,
but the air had that particular stillness
you only notice once you’ve felt something leave.

We called his name into the nowhere,
placed pads on a chest that would not listen,
and I watched hands I trusted begin the ritual
of pretending we could undo the end.

No one says it out loud,
but there are rooms that close around you like grief,
and even though you walk out when the protocol ends,
part of you stays,
quietly lying beside the one who didn’t.

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© 2025 Solena Vyhra. All rights reserved.
This work is part of the poetry collection “Where Nurses Go to Mourn Themselves” – a poetic record of what nursing takes from you, and what it leaves behind.
No part of this poem, including text or visual design, may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author.
For inquiries, permissions, or collaborations, please contact: solenavyhra@gmail.com

Illustration and layout by Solena Vyhra.
Typography: Special Elite (poem titles), Signature (author tag).
Published on Substack via Where Silence Becomes Ritual.