The Family in the Waiting Room Wants More - 2nd Revision

[No1wouldriotforless]

The Family in the Waiting Room Wants More
The Family in the Waiting Room Wants More

But there is nothing more I have to offer.
Although it can no longer speak,
the body has a language of its own, (This has good focus)
and hers has told me this is her last refrain.

In the faint blue of this delicate skin,
I sew in neat black stitches, taking extra care
to make them beautiful and small
a steady hand the only thing left that I can give.

(Love care you’ve given to construct and the concept itself.)

This small body, ravished (ravaged?) now and dying (suggests: trade word, fading)
nearly translucent in its lightness, (lightness: purposefully unclear? Use pallor or maybe a color comparison?)
let loose from searing pain, slowly exhales (‘lets’ might clear up the tense/timeline)
towards the arc of timelessness.

My throat suddenly as dry as hers,
my own bones aching now and old, (maybe change “old” to express the burden/heft)
I make my way down the long sterile hall
to speak the language of death.

I enjoyed the final 2 lines, especially.