She looked like Ingrid Bergman, deep, dark eyes,
Her reflection in the window—a ghost—
Long gray hair—voiceless eyes—catatonic—
Her vision beyond God’s next creation.
Her statue’s screaming silence in deep rest.
Her form in the large window—like God’s voice.
She was all things to all men and women.
She was the Universal Mother’s heart
Now dried, rippled in bones and tired by time.
She moved like a phantom without moving,
She stood like a hero among the dead.
She was the Mother of our sacred shine,
The peaceful queen, the seductive harlot.
She was our nursing home’s Greta Garbo.