Helen

September, 2009

She was practical.

To avoid passersby,

her bed was situated in the center of her apartment.

It did not solve the problem, but it did help.

The further from the walls the better,

especially when longing for sleep.

She would often wake, limbs stiffened,

body and blanket precisely where they had been
when she'd tucked in

the night before.

Stillness did not mean sleep.

I knew none of this,

back then,

when she first sat down in front of me

and smiled.

I did not know her name,

old like her soul.

My joy and my discomfort,

she felt them. There were no observations,

but sensations. They pulsed through her body,

uninvited.

I rested my needles

and she worried about what would never be.

I nodded off

and she breathed a sigh of relief.

She held it all, for everyone,

like that spot in the river

swirling with debris.