Curtains
That fine ever so fading
Line between
Here
And almost gone
Going
But not yet
When I held her tissue paper
Bones stitching together
Forming a wafery hand
The lies blurred
It was Easter Sunday
Eager to be with her
Greet her full and open
Radiant carrying in the morning sun to her
Room where heavy curtains
Hung halfway down the wall only resemblance of decor
Yet screaming
Sterile
Hanging ominously
Covering
More holding this fragile woman in that
Holding the world out
Outside leaves sang
In bright colours
Cherry blossoms
Unravelling in joyous wonder at the Light
It was Easter Sunday
Eager to see her
But eager to get to church
Where pews where filling up with heartbeats sure to keep on beating though the week
Were meeting
Living
Greeting
My hello to her was brief
Standing there by the grandest of beds filling the room
A centrepiece
Of the awkward space left between hello
And will I see you
Again
I don’t know how to do this
It’s hard to see you lying there
Wasting away
Taking up a fraction of the bed with your fragile frame
We prayed quickly
That Easter morning
Before she shooed me on my way
To be with the Risen Jesus and the living
That was the last time I saw her
She went home
To be with Jesus
That week.
April 19 2025
© Naomi Allen, Beautifully Nay
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