the unshedding of elizabeth
louise money
elizabeth recognizes herself always
the firmly set jaw is the dead giveaway
the shallow and slow undercurrent of breath
she figures she is always on the fringe of being
terminal
in danger of drowning in mundane days of
banks, supermarkets, and tv
surely, she longs, a more friendly landscape
will someday shine through
into dreams elizabeth falls circling each night
her face frosted blue and blurred in the dark wind
steadily she falls arms grasping thin air
eyes crystalline and bionic in the dark
surely a more humane light will shine through
days and nights she tumbles until tired and dizzy
but steadily she strains to hear the good news
needy prayers comfort her loneliness
across her eyes faith paints its invisible hood
hold steady...for the wanderer there is always
another mountain or cavern...
somewhere elizabeth's life is being written
if she can survive she will have years to embrace it
perhaps everything worthy must be slaved for
as she falls she scratches off years of sacrifice
long ago she gave up the desire for wisdom
the only thing she wants now is to sit quiet by the river
quiet but elevated ... unheeding and visible
