Faith

BY JOYCE

Faith

That year,
the young magnolia tree,
cleaved by winter’s ice,
struggled all spring
to produce on its single
remaining branch,
a blossom

Awakened by distant
thunder to a late spring
morning’s sudden rain,
it opened –
one perfect white flower,
petals cupped wide

Now here we are,
seven years later,
arrived at another
late spring day,
and I’m the one
cleaved, fissured,
awaiting grafting

In this morning’s
gentle shower,
the little magnolia tree
raises up four white candle-buds
and one by one they open,
as if there was ever
any question, as if
in silent hallelujah