catapult magazine

Vigil

by Kirstin Vander Giessen-Reitsma

I have wondered
what I would do when it was time.
Is it time?
I try to box up the thought that nags me,
throw it into the swollen spring river
weighted down with rocks:
If she would just say she’s ready to die,
she would make it so much easier on the rest of us
who watch and wait. 

The wind gusts strong enough through closed windows
to rustle the curtains,
blowing an insistent train whistle against the house.
The first of April fools us with snow,
but the gale stops suddenly with a hint of sun. 

Her best friend prays that God will have mercy.
“Yes, be merciful and heal me,” she replies.
She is waiting for a miracle
while we wait for other news.