How did she know this
was the last day?
The weather turned
but only later
Voices grew and grew
and fell
as mighty things do,
but it wasn’t then
or in that place.
Where she told stories
suddenly true,
heard poets, and without plan
came to stand back to back
with one, then another.
Where she held the weight of words
not yet found into being,
until she too believed
in God-between.
She looked around the room
the same as always
studied her hands,
settled her back
into it’s place.
The window framed
what she knew should be
and from the outside
what she had been
but she did know.
Odd, there was no wrestling
with angels,
nothing delivered requiring
a move to her knees
only the absence in the room
was new.
Severance, she named it
instead of God-moved on.