Her rose-embossed, heart-shaped tin
emptied of its gift sweets,
is now the repository
for a bewilderment of pills,
which rest on her outstretched tongue
as lightly as the Communion host.
Day after day, year after year…
Through the relentless pain that makes
her crutch-bound steps a Calvary
through the unresting, ticking nights;
her sufferings composed in prayer,
her heart delivered in its singing.