It’s Real

“Mary!” you said
and the beloved voice speaking only for her
to her
cleared the tear-blindness
and she knew who stood before her.

Photo: Irma Dillard rscj

The familiar scene sent goose-bumps
familiar yet new
down my spine again.
Before ganglions stopped quivering
you looked at me.
“It’s real,” you said.

Real? What is? What does “real” mean, anyway?
But even as mind began laborious clumping
through quagmires to truth
your joy was bubbling inside
filling my body with light.

As we danced that dawning
and your wounds spattered gay patterns on the floor
who cared what truth and reality held?
You are. “You are my joy,” I whispered.
“Ananda,” you said.

Ananda Amritmahal, rscj
Province of India