Veins protruded from old hands
as she lit the last candle.
Spotted, shaking palms
were placed together, cradling
a squint of faith;

the by-product of
TEMPUS FUGIT: Domine.
Concealed within this
church-mother's frame, distilled
by thought and time, or both -

the message of a dying hope
a means to cope with what
is dealt, to limit what is felt
for sin, and blessings not her own.

So, here, a sister of many,
wife of One and intercessor
for the countless wretched,
kneels in a stone Gethsemane
and prays for resurrection.