'Her remains have been scattered.'
I never knew. I thought her entombed
in a tiny compartment by the roses.
No, it seems she fertilised them years ago
I hope it was in accord
with her children's wishes,
not on a whim of the curator
or to make room
for the next generation.
This woman taught me without words
love for the unlovely
and the hope of grace,
attached forever in my mind
to a black Bible on a bedside table,
which I never saw her read
but never doubted