Sometimes the darkness encompasses her, its grasp whispy and elusive
Clawing at her slowly in feline curiosity
Recognizing her grief, smelling the pain,
Like sharks tracing blood through murky depths
Streamlining its way to her wound.
Each day it arrives like vultures from Switzerland
Knowing the exact hour of her death and waiting and waiting
Until it pulls her to the other side to consume her spiritless
It knows, it knows! and so its sides close in on her,
Its scent like a cherry blossom or even like dogwood,
The petals forming a cross and rosy streaks dripping in each
Direction to the corners of...
The corners are about at the shoulders
No light, just separation from light and her thoughts
No life, no spirit
A prison of eternal darkness and misery
Sometimes she can feel what seems like heat, but she is easily deceived
So here she lies to be accepted into your light
Here she hopes
Here she believes.