Prayer Vigil

I could not tell if
she was weeping or
if she had a cold.

Three pews up, leaning
forward with head bowed.
Was that fatigue or reverence?

Her occasional sniffles broke
The silence of the chapel
Along with birdsong outside
the shuttered windows.

“Could you not keep watch one hour?”

We had answered yes
and sat praying and waiting early
as sky lightened to gray, sponging
water that had fallen the night before.

Now sitting taller her sounds
have stopped and I
three pews back, wondering
left with the mystery.

But does it matter?
Our broken hearts
Our broken bodies

The black drape waits to yield to white.
Easter Hope.