From where she lies

wordsout by godfrey rust
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From where she lies

From where she lies the view is lovely.
You can see the valley from here.
Beside her, carefully-chosen cards
don’t say Get Well Soon.

We come and go, not knowing
which goodbye will be goodbye.
For a few days she seems stateless.
The angels are checking her passport.

They needn’t fret. She has
the necessary visa. Even here
she wears the bittersweet, regretful grace
of an ambassador returning home.

The pain is nothing, she says,
and now for her the world is nothing,
and from where she lies the view is lovely.
You can see heaven from here.

For my mother, Joan.