“My younger sister, dulled and fixed after her stroke, in the style of John dunne”

Upon My Sister After Her Stroke  
(After John Donne)

As twilight gently mars the vibrant day,  
So fate annealed my sister’s voice and will—  
The laughter once a torrent, hushed to still,  
Her nimble wit now drifting far away.  
Yet in her silent eyes, some embers stay,  
A flame not quenched but shaped to winter’s chill,  
As iron, dulled and fixed, endures no ill  
But gleams anew, though muted in its ray.

O cruel alchemy of blood and time,  
That robs her hands of music and of ease—  
The bells she’d ring are silent ‘neath the grime  
Of shadowed hours and prayer unsaid. Yet these  
Are not mere vestiges of joy, nor mime  
Of sorrow, but the form of love’s decrees:

That though her world is bent and fate grown stark,  
The soul endures, undimmed beyond the dark.

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