Near the end of the course, in that part of the hour
Reserved for questions, a silence fell on the class
When the girl who’d been quiet all semester
Raised her hand to ask if anyone there besides her
Believed in heaven. An embarrassed silence
While each of us wondered why she hadn’t chosen
To go to the Bible college just a mile away.
Or if not heaven, she added after a moment,
Did any of us believe the unlucky were granted
A second life on earth, under stars more friendly?
If not, what did we tell ourselves
When facing the fact of unequal portions?
How did we deal with the students in the flat above,
Who died in the fire that somehow missed us,
With the family crushed by the truck
That failed to stop at the corner we’d passed
A moment before? And what about those
Whose particular stories are lost
In a shared disaster, inhabitants of a town
Flattened by a tsunami or buried in a mudslide
Or torched by a warlord eager to prove
That the ruthless can always defeat the peaceable?
What truth did we lean on, she wondered,
That might steady her too if her faith
Should happen to stumble? Then she was done,
Leaving us with a silence that had no trouble
Stretching to fill the hour and lingering
As we pulled our coats on and ventured out
To see if our luck would hold all day.