Poetry

(for Lucienné)
 
Sometimes when I kneel down for prayer in church
she comes with small tottering steps,
folds her two small arms around me
and for moments the prayer of the chief elder ends
when with Gert, Gert she gives a small cry
and her joy cuts through heart and soul.
 
It’s with a pouted mouth that she sometimes kisses,
looking up with small angelic eyes into mine
when maybe even in heaven there is silence
and for moments I am amazed
when her hand reaches out to mine,
as a small girl sometimes do.