Noli Me Tangere

She reaches out then pauses,
stops, drops her arm.
No returning reach,
the arms remain distant, distant
as far as the east from the west.
They are stretched out
but not yet toward her;
they reach over all the earth.
Again she lifts her hand
and must wait, for, though the hour,
it is not yet such final time
when all shall be well.
The hand returns to her chest,
clutches at nothing,
holds until it overflows,
and she watches until
the flowers fade.

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