BLESSED & BURIED.

TWO NUNS AND A BURIEL.

Sister Clare sits there.
The lay sister fills in

The grave. How strong
She is. The hands grip

The spade, the earth dark,
The sky darkening, eve

Approaching. Compline.
Sister Agnes dead and

Now to be buried. The
Service done and priest

Read and blessed. Sister
Clare sniffs the air. Listens.

No birds, owls hoot. The lay
Sister tips the earth and taps

The top. She takes breather,
Looks at the sky. Wonders

What it’s like to die; last
Breath, early death. God

Taken. Sister Clare fingers
The beads, the rosary clinks

In the evening stillness.
Abbess Bede was laid to

Rest some footsteps away,
Last year, last May. The lay

Sister rubs her back, aches,
Stiffness. Looks at the grave,

The raised mound, the dark
Disturbed ground. Nearly done,

Sister Clare says, focussing
On the sister’s dark eyes, hand’s

Grip, the spade lifted. The lay
Sister places the last earth

And pats to firmness. Breathes
Air, stands back, gazes at Sister

Clare fingering beads, sitting
There. Come, Angel, the deed

Is done, says the lay sister nun.
Sister Clare smiles, smells

The air, signs the cross from
Forehead to breast, shoulder

To shoulder, mutters, God keep
Us Sister, in His mercy, God rest.