A Self Portrait

I saw death today;
Ever present, it was missing from
The dying man's eyes;
Nor was it noticed upon the wild
Creases of his face.

Paralysis gripped him
And me.

I saw death today,
But it wasn't the wheelchair
That betrayed it;
Nor the argent splinters still clinging to
The forgetful scalp.
It was in me,
Remembering, seeing, hearing, feeling --
Naught.