except when she thought that she heard
the dulcet voice of Mother there
and thought perhaps her waiting tomb
might really be another womb.
Indeed, she might have hoped for that
for all the foreheads she once wet,
but for the habit she still wore
when she dropped her beads to the floor,
for with her final thoughts she prayed,
however dark that life became,,
the black she sees about her now,
God knows, it's only human to dou....
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