She Died Last Night

After vigils of worry and fatigue,

she slipped out of our fingers,

a hole, a whole vanished 

woman where once she 

laughed and breathed.

One foot at a time, we walk

and listen for her hollow step.

Our day is shades 

of gray and black.

Voices whisper words 

that don’t make sense

from somewhere we can’t see.

Yet all around a blur 

of color holds us in its womb.

published in Sonnets to Sing