Her faith, in that she continued to pour her heart out to God, still believing that He might answer her prayers, even as she feared He would not:
All night I lay in bed and prayed to God.
I tried to gather myself from His hands crumb after piece
And again and again scattered back into nothingness.
I asked why,
I pleaded, “Enough.”
Such a small creature
Why should You mind
That I should be
That I should be as a human being.
And her hope, in that whenever things took a turn for the better, she dared to wish for her good fortune to continue, even as she feared it might not:
And again came the wave I’d awaited so long
Which I cried for, I moaned, bit my pillow and prayed
It lifted me high, brought me close to the rest
At the very last second before the too late
From the pit, from the suffering, the cold, chilly fear
My heart fainted before it, so glad to be near.
But I really don’t know.
Will it stay after all?Before me tomorrow is closed, a dark wall.
There's irony for me in reading these poems now, when I know how her prayers and hopes ended. But my grief is also eased by knowing that her hope enabled her to face, again and again, unimaginable suffering and sorrow, and to find and appreciate happiness wherever and whenever she could.