The Vigil

She lies in state
not quite gone
still breathing

The watchers wrap around her bed
spill over and fill the house,
an entourage to escort the faithful one
to the celebration on the other side.

They wait as time drags his feet
to give them moments of gold.
Murmers rise and fall
in rhythm with her breathing
She speaks
and every word is captured
in buckets of tears
and gales of laughter

They watch,
as they text, crochet, pace,
play Solitaire,
work online, eat, pray,
hold her hand, sleep.
Morning comes,
Her caregivers are strewn on their beds
as she breathes on.

As they wait and watch
golden moments become golden days
to be captured and held in store
for rainy days.

She tiptoes to the door of death,
turns, then walks away
She is waiting, she says,
for her Master to call her name.
Stillness pervades the bedside
Voices fade to whispers
as this becomes sacred ground.
Gently her Shepherd comes
to claim His own,
She alone hears His voice
and swiftly answers His call.

Who was this woman?
A pillar of faith
Physically weak, spiritually strong,
She would say, "It wasn't me,
It was my faithful Lord,
It was His amazing grace."