They woke up that day
to an absence, a cool
morning breeze,
and a silence so ordinary
they almost didn’t notice.
Perhaps in between
the deep exhale of morning
and the heavy, drooping lids,
the thought crossed their minds: he must be off praying, somewhere, alone.
Buy some raisins and a loaf of bread. In a moment we will hear
his voice, calling,
his light step at the door,
the soft familiar sound of
his prayer over breakfast.

Their eyes blink open.
Some thing
dawns, and the truth sinks like
mooring without a rope.

The sun
rose —
he did not.

3.30.24