After the Shootings, A Congregation

No solace found in the sermon
we turned to look at one another.
Across the aisle a bald baby
on the shoulder of his mother
spotted another in the pew behind. 


They tremored toward each other,
chubby arms extended,
hyper-articulating
until each mom
leaned in.

They increased their pitch,
eyes met,
lips touched.
They embraced.

I stood a silent witness
to a place from which
we could
begin again.

 
 
Nancy Austin

Nancy Austin

Nancy Austin relishes time to write in Minocqua, WI., and has been published in various journals including Adanna, Midwestern Gothic, Sheepshead Review, and Verse Wisconsin. She has a poetry collection titled Remnants of Warmth (Aldrich Press, 2016).