Failed Writing Assignment
I wanted to write about you.
I wanted some anecdote that would take up your voice
like a rusty gate; your bird’s eyes,
alternately sharp and kind behind ancient glasses;
your hands so weathered,
yet strong and soft
as those thin pages of the Bible
you gingerly turned at 5AM.
My palimpsest brain has nothing-
no convenient vignette-
just images, sensations of you. I feel
your hand in mine, grasped so tightly that the
loose amethyst ring pressed
sharp into my skin,
scent of talc and lotion on the weak breeze
wheezing from the
aging window air conditioner.
"Don't worry," I said
when once you expressed doubt.
"I have faith that God will take care of it."
You squeezed me wordlessly in response.
I was still so shocked at the
Grandma-shaped hole in the world
that I don't remember what I sang.
Your hands were too still,
and I reached out to dry my son's tears.
In the end, God takes care of everything.