Amidst the septic smells of the hospital
And the smell of death
An exuberance of English fans cheering as
England scored another goal against Mexico
As I waited in the family waiting room
And my mother being changed into another hospital nightgown
Having arrived and seeing the blood on her fingers
As she tried to rip out another mid-intravenous line
And the depressing sight of seeing her blood-soaked green gown
And before leaving for the hospital, watching Brazil lose to Norway of all places
And watching all the exuberance and the fans painted in country-flag colours
And the sounds of the prolongated GOOOOOOOAAAAAAAL as only Hispanic
Sports announcers can do it
And this impossible dream played only every four years
And the buzz in American cities with two tickets selling in Miami
For at a minimum of four-thousand US dollars
And being glued to the TV and the nervousness for one’s country’s team
Trying to get to the next round
And watching mom’s sad jaundiced blue eyes, sometimes opening as I called to her
And sometimes not
As I watched her ebb slowly away as if being slowly pulled under by an ocean undertow
And me not knowing what to do
And feeling helpless
While all this worldly excitement
As the round ball is passed between players wearing their country-colours
On manicured-green fields in huge stadiums
Hosting thousands across North America this time
And wondering if this was the end for mom
Were these her final days
Or could she hang on
As I watched the multi-coloured ball swish the net again and watch the goalie miss
