'Sunday Scribblings' topic for 4 February 2007
Synchronicity in the grand plan
has left another note for me.
What did Meg and Laini know
the week my mother's pulse
fluttered to silence in the night?
Other such scribbled notes I've found
still legible though washed ashore,
the debris of another week's tides.
This very Wednesday
nurse Clare unlocked the room,
put tea in my hand and closed the door.
They'd laid a long rose
across the stillness of her chest
opened the large-print Psalms beside her bed:
'I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.'
A delusional Christ has led her to this fancy?
Or just perhaps...
commensurate in scale
to deepest bafflement at the stuff of being
hangs wild happiness to match her deepest longing.