In the great room Sunday morning
awash in fading souls
the big screen blares big big —
no one cares.
She sits there stoic
astride the turquoise side chair
wheel chair placed aside
teetering toward
serene?
I enter softly
emptily
and she does not notice
until I loom up
inches from her face
that instantly softens.
The big screen blares big big
no one cares
and a young man
fills the screen
muscled and enjoining
move lift, lift move!
“Let’s go outside” I say.
“I want to finish here first” she replies firmly.
I step back
observe the tiny movements of her feet
lift move, move lift
rough tapped tiny rhythms
to a strange man’s enjoining.
This is no fool’s play.
Her shipwrecked misery
amid her fellow sailers
articulates steadily, inexorably.
Less spoken, no less essential
other streams surely flow
to lift this blessed vessel
to such hope we cling.