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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