she lay on that road
trembling and fearsome and brave and cold and blue
reciting prayers from her Convent youth
but there were none to salvage her fate
yet still she plied her trade like a pauper
she died in that merciless place
walking on the streets
like something the Gods threw away
yet treasured when they grasped their shocking loss
also the immensity of it
like the Sun
Flynnpoetry 