The bed alarm sounded at 2 AM
And there she stood upon the stool
Dusting the place above
Where the pillows are kept
Where the motes have gathered
Unremembered
Except by the old woman
Whose family is frightened
By what she cannot remember
We clamor in whispers
As not to wake the others
But she is steadfast
Someone must see
To the unseen places
And she has never fallen before.
“Oh Abuela, you can go to bed
We will finish the cleaning tonight
There is much to do tomorrow”
Finally
She alights and smiles
At our hands rushing to slow her descent
And lays at the edge of the bed
Staring into the dark upper corner
And so we climb
Knowing that someone must see
To the unseen places
To the unspoken-of shelves
Where the many motes
Are at risk of falling
Returned unto dust before their time
We clean until the cheap wood gleams
And replace the pillows
Tuck the chair safely away
She nods
And closes her eyes
There is much to do tomorrow
