Touched your hem
A thousand times
A face just
Beyond my sight
Space between
Grace, grief
A hand could
Cool blistered skin
A word might
Hush broken minds
And speak
Sweet relief
You broke my
Center of gravity
Left me
At the edge
My foot slipped
You turned
A torn veil
Face laid bare
Ground gave way
Beneath me
Death’s dust near
God, be not far
Sneha Abraham is a writer and editor at Pomona College in Claremont, California.
This appears in the April 2011 issue of Sojourners
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