Coming Late to Grace

Unseen and unrecognized,
Grace always come through
and I see it
only afterwards
with the certainty
of the one who's read
the ending
of the book

At forty-nine, I'm one again
hands clenched tightly
on my lap
pretending no one notices
I look 'round
to see
what is expected
trying
to learn
the language
trying--
guessing
at
normal
This time
only FEELING
bald