Before her hope could run away,
before it could wrestle free from the need that had it surrounded,
before it could unravel the dreams it had made,
dreams sewn into place by the line that held together the horizon,
dreams that cinched the gap between earth and sky,
she clasped that hope in her hands.
Felt the weight of it buckle her knees.
Rethreaded what had come undone between laced fingers,
and laid her heart upon it.
And unwittingly found herself reenacting a scene from her childhood.
The picture of her younger self
learning the language of angels.