The Passing of Mary Ann

I carried her off under a red oak and laid her down. Her heart was broken in her chest and she looked like she might die any second.

“You’re going to be fine,” I said to her. It was a lie. She was obviously going to die.

She stared up at me, and in her eyes I saw that she saw everything. The globe, the Universe within itself, spraying planets and existence throughout her, seared inside her pupils. “I can really see it now,” she said.

I began to cry and I said, “Yes. You can.”

Her mouth moved and she poured forth a litany, to Gods I never knew nor sought, and in her infinitesimal wisdom she told me that all was well for her.

“I’m glad,” I said.

And she passed, and I saw it. I watched life separate from body like it was nothing at all, just another hurtle to jump over.