He came in through the window

made to join their separate worlds

while the others only moved

behind the frame

The arrow shot today,

buried deep within the bone,

was yesterday deflected

by the pane

No move was calculated

nor the arrow drawn debated

but intended, so she thought,

for her dinner at the start

Sometimes seeing happens

somewhere other than the eye

sometimes knowing happens

deep within the heart

It’s easier to say her hand

was guided by a higher intuition,

seeking balance, knowing

some great secret truth

Than it is to say a daughter

innocently trades a father

for a mother’s only son

eye for eye, tooth for tooth

Whether acting in the name

of justice, anger, or revenge,

the leaves are stained the same

alarming shade of red

Her heart is just as heavy

as before the arrow hit

the nights are just as restless

whether one or two are dead

At first, she tried to run

when the images would haunt her

or the river tried to taunt her

as she washed her sin away

Whispering, What kind of monster

kills the man who saved its life?

What kind of life is lived

alone among the graves?

In truth, she dug a second one

more slowly than the first

but by the time she had it finished

had grown wary

The trees that towered over her

spoke softer than the river

saying gently,

This one isn’t yours to bury

It took her seven days

to move his body just a mile

to the window he had entered through

just seven days before

And through the sweat and blood,

as she was climbing through the mud

she felt the opening

of some internal door

Truth was riding on the breeze

leaving bits and pieces

here and there

and she collected every word

She saw within her voiceless throat

a gift she’d never seen

for in silence

nothing ever goes unheard

The seven days it took

to move his body just a mile

felt toward the end

as if it had been years

For seven days she stitched

the bits and pieces of the truth

into large enough a quilt

to dry her tears

A fabric strong enough

to contain her heavy heart

double stitched and folded

end to end

Long enough to wrap

around his body, warm enough

to help her say I’m sorry

to a friend

Though it took her seven days

to reach the window where he entered

seven days for all the truth

to be disclosed

It took only the tiniest

of fragments of a second

once they disappeared inside

for it to close