I was tending a deathbed at noon.
Doubt appeared beside me, an efficient nurse.
She touched everything in the room with her cloth:
the window, my eyelids, my mouth . . .
Like a mortal, this nurse
had a shadow Faith
who followed her, followed each
stroke of her cloth to completion.
How can I be sure of this?
I can’t be. I’m not here
to give you certainty, I’m here
to ask you, to believe.