jesus dies on the cross
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station 12: mortal coil
Hear our prayers
For all who’ve seen death up close.
Or been sideswiped by it.
For all who’ve stared into the face of
“it is finished, it is over, this is it.”
For all who’ve said,
“not yet, not like this,
please just not this."
Hear our cries, hear our laments.
FALL
by Didi Jackson
Do you know what I was, how I lived?
—Louise Glück
It is a goldfinch
one of the two
small girls,
both daughters
of a friend,
sees hit the window
and fall into the fern.
No one hears
the small thump but she,
the youngest, sees
the flash of gold
against the mica sky
as the limp feathered envelope
crumples into the green.
How many times
in a life will we witness
the very moment of death?
She wants a box
and a small towel
some kind of comfort
for this soft body
that barely fits
in her palm. Its head
rolling side to side,
neck broke, eyes still wet
and black as seed.
