WIDE-OPEN NIGHT

Do you know

how to reach

the convent?

Zahra insists on walking

through the wide-open night

at my side, despite

her obvious pain. Despite

the space behind Matilde

on Minuit, the horse

I learned to ride on

as a child.

She leans on my arm,

her weight a welcome

tether to the earth.

I believe

the convent

is south.

I am

almost sure

we’re headed

that direction.

This I know:

each step carries us

farther away from the place

we’ll never truly leave.