Silver Lace

One of our sisters is in the end stage of cancer. After many years in remission it came back two years ago last February. Everything about her journey is inspiration. One bonus for us is her return to the poetry writing she began as a child. A chapbook of her poems, A Hermit Holds My Heart, has just been published (Benetvision ). Here's my favorite, written to our oldest member:

For Margaret Harrison

It is too late for miracles
my friend.
You wear your years
like silver lace
your hair white as ermine.
Ninety three years
lean toward resurrection,
and I do not begrudge
you that journey.

But I, too,
move toward death.
Yes, I am young
but more than half your age.
I am growing familiar with tumors
and aching flesh.
My soul years are tidied up
and finished like drying hay.
I am also ready
for resurrection.

So, let us leave God in peace.
I promise I will not beg for your longevity
if you will stop hounding heaven for mine.
We have no need for miracles