A gentle death (was delivering news), Rev 1

[billy]

in general i found it to be overly wordy [achebe] pointed out most of the weak or unnecessary lines. so i will just go with them on that point in order to bolster it. the poem starts off with a reasonable line, some good sounds with the first two words. after that the wordiness comes into play. as the poet you have license to be more definite. choose 4th or 5th. that way you don't have to have the weaker [i'm unsure] line.

use more imagery, use some simile or/and metaphor, just a couple of either or both will lift the poem. what was her old black skin like?

Silent sentries flank the long hall,
faces averted, their disposition clouded.
In the middle plays the youngest
of her family, fourth maybe the fifth generation;
I am unsure.

They laugh, skip, dance even mere yards
from where she lay dying. very wordy couplet

Small, awkward but undaunted as
I cannot hold the inexorable; make each line mean something to the reader.
I cross to her room.

Even more are here, older,
packed tight, embers that surround
her with their warmth
as hers lessens.

Her husband sits by her head,
his gaze fixed, uncertain, hand
tight on his cane.
Beside is the empty chair
for me.

Her eyes of nearly ninety years
soften as I hold her black hand in my white hand, is it a black hand from age or is that the one reference of ethnicity? if so be stronger in showing it, [the eyes of the [insert a good descriptive word here]old black woman]
and anchor myself.  Relief comes as I hold
her and her husband in my mind, 
all others receding dimly.  I disclose
what she already knows.
They all do.

Sooner than expected 
she becomes still.  Her hand in mine yet,
I tell her husband
"She has passed".
Looking nowhere, eyes empty -- he asks no one
"And now what will I do?"

I reach inside but find
nothing
except that which does not grow back,
leaving me less than I was. 
Forward I must grow -- as forward I turn to go.

The children continue to play 
in the warm dappled sunlight
filtered through the paneled window.

She has her victory.  Her calm
inscrutable wisdom not lost
but manifest in all those who 
surround, accept and forgive 
and comfort even me.

[quick note:  this was brought to mind by an earlier poem (that seems to have disappeared) that was about giving negative news.]