Her fingers clicked

through the beads, one

by one, a silent prayer in progress

as the bus grunted in disjointed answer

to her hope of forgiveness and eyes

staring penance.

Her gaze never wavering from the unfolding

scene of life, horror in her mind

as I saw only animated Time.

Unseen

to me, something must have caught her eye

and slowly, with pain etched deep

in her face and a tear forming,

she put down her faith

and forfeited the remainder

of the journey, taking flight

from the unsighted few

and allowed the beads to fall

to the floor.

Ian D. Hall 2018