I nearly passed this poem by because of the title and my current emotional state. I'm so glad I didn't move on. I loved this poem and felt the power behind your words. This poem touched me with its peace and solemnity. I'm also impressed with your ability to focus an immeasurable thing into a short, beautiful scene that grows the more I re-read it.

The theme of the sorrow felt by Death–I was relieved to find this poem is about Death with a Capital D's sorrow–in new to me. I'm also not up for feeling sorrow right now, but Death's sorrow is something beautiful and sad. The reader gets what they expect: to view the death of the child; but they also receive a very special gift: Death's experience of the child's death. It's rare and lonely.

You use imagery to great advantage. In first stanza, "Inside the sterile white room/in the tiny bed with rough, blue-knit covers" Those two lines gave me such a visceral experience of the room. They express discomfort and cold you only ever know in a hospital. Well done.

I have a suggestion about word selection, which seems like an unforgivable transgression from me, a non-poet, to you, who have such a gift. It might seem a minor thing, but I ask you to consider whether the adverb "gently" is the right word to describe the way in which Death knocks on the door. Other options might be "softly," "lightly," or even "reverently." I'm not much of a poet myself, and you know what you're trying to say, while I do not. I do think that looking at adverbs and adjectives like this one carefully can make a difference in the emotions invoked in the reader. "Gently" felt off to me personally, because it's a word I'd use for animate or very precious objects. But always remember to DO YOU.

There's also a typo/grammar error made twice in the first stanza that's easily fixed: "who's" should be "whose." "Who's" is the contraction for "who is" and "whose" is the possessive form of who. (Don't worry, after the first stanza or paragraphs, I find that writers relax and the words flow more smoothly and seamlessly.

I love that she tells him he looks like the Grim Reaper. Priceless. I also love the little girl's innocence and her maturity borne of her long illness.

As I reread the last line of the poem, I wondered at your choice of title. Tongue in cheek: thinking of Death as "The Deliverer of News" makes him less scary, at least, doesn't it?

I loved reading and reviewing this poem, Elizabeth, and I truly look forward to reading more of your work. Thank you for sharing your poetry with me and with WDC.