Sister Death taps us on the shoulder
She does not like that
We dance
Sing praises
To Saint Francis
How he cares for animals
And babies
She giggles
We have just finished dinner
And the door is open
It is a mystery how we feed ourselves
All our heart wants
Is cake and powder
Perhaps we are partners now
Inseparable
Huddled in the ashes of
Our hut
It is a shame there are no others
But I humbly accept
Her love
Our eyes are tired
Our limbs aching
We seem to be always waiting
I prefer an adventure
She says
There are no rabbit holes
Here
I reply
Just wells with no bottom
And no water
Like an empty font
Remember when we used
To go to the quiet place
Everything is closed now
I remember
She whispers
She is more than me
More than Saint Francis
And Sister Death
She is real
Precious
And holy.
