The tomorrow I so feared

is yesterday, at last

and she is gone

(and with us still)

and we have left

only our tears to dry

and our memory

and our love.

While She?

She’s in some-where-else-land

not having even to learn the ropes

for soul knows all and forever.

And She can hear our “thoughts and prayers”

just like all those old, gray saints

with the long beards

and all those singing martyrs

brushing burning embers

from their sack-cloth robes

and she remembers

from up

there

or over

there,

somewhere

where she smiles

at our wishes and whines

and She whispers to our souls,

“Fear not, sillies!

For all is always well

and Willed to be so!”