late-night encounter

for Conny

2 a.m. wakeup
cradle my arm
toddle down hallway
sleepy, unsteady
headed for fridge
whole-milk yogurt
good bed for pain meds
I’m at a retreat
tiny cell a nun’s cloister
five-hanger closet
narrow bed, desk and sink
my home for a week
I find kitchenette
open yogurt one-handed
four spoonfuls enough
long highway toward home
my pill and to bed
neighbor emerges
says something soft
but I can’t understand
point to my ears
woman enunciates
“are you in pain?”
I nod, “yes I am”
she says “bless your heart”
her spirit flows forth
enfolds me in
warmth and affection
tears spring to my throat
clog there—oh!
the kindness of strangers

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.