Where Two Walls Meet

by Rachel Johnson

 

 She sits there,

half-seen, half-buried

in shadows,

perpendicular.

Candlelight catches guilty eyes

looking to His mother

as Hail Mary's escape her lips,

"And blessed is the fruit

of thy womb..."

 

She sits there,

her face streaked

with rivers

of salt and sin.

The corner shrouds her

in darkness, daring

her to ask for forgiveness.

Candles flickers as wind,

with unhuman hands,

lifts her hair

to dry His feet and perfume

them with oils.

 

She sits there,

rocking back and forth,

her head in her hands,

her heart in His hands.

A faint flicker of moonlight

haloes her face,

canonizing a sinner

with the saints.

 

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