Hagiography

Her songs—those that I remember— 
Were of the flight and winter crossing, 
The wagons and sick children, 

Of death, burial, and leaving 
One husband, till the Universal Easter, 
Lodged in the prairie’s numb crust; 

And of herself sick and bearing 
The burden of premature age, 
Waiting expectantly in the womb 

Of the great laboring wagon 
Through whose ripped canvas 
She occasionally saw the articulate stars.