Grace

I re-found this Carol Anne Duffy poem today; I read it at my mum’s funeral in 2012.

Then, like a sudden, easy birth, grace –
rendered as light to the softening earth,
the moon stepping slowly backwards
out of the morning sky, reward
for the dark hours we took to arrive and kneel
at the silver river’s edge near the heron priest,
anointed, given – what we would wish ourselves.

© Carol Anne Duffy from Rapture