By Madeleine Callahan
I nominate
the woman whose beloved husband died
and so she put on her shoes
every Wednesday
to hand out bags of food
in honor of their love.
She cried for eight weeks
in that narrow stairwell
while we chatted about the extras
we were throwing into the bags.
I nominate the moment
when her one bag ripped open,
chaos of peas, pumpkin,
fruit salad and tea bags
slipping down the steps –
that moment cured part of her distress
as we laughed till we couldn’t breathe.
A certain peace colored her lips and cheeks.
Her back was no longer curled in.
I nominate all volunteers
who struggle faithfully
through loss because
of their existential pursuit of peace.
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