She clings to that
Glimmer of hope
With both hands,
At a time when
All else has gone dark,
Someone, whomever it is
Or was, pausing to help
Her up off the floor
When the mark of other
People’s footprints
Still show across her back
The walking over or around,
The idea that she is so
Insignificant, unworthy
Marked on her as if on cain,
She clings to this single
Thread, this person,
This sense of pending peace
He or she keeping
Her from seeking
Refuge in sleep,
Her soul, she says,
Is wide awake
And aware,
She clings to this
Glimmer of hope
Because it is all
She has left,
This sense that
Someone thinks her
Worthing enough
To pick her up,
The good Samaritan
Simon, reaching down
To help Christ rise,
To bear Christ’s cross
(at least for a little while)
Even though in the end,
The cross is waiting
At the top of the hill.
She clings to this
Glimmer of hope
Hoping she can survive
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