Sunday Smile Poem by Not Long Left

As the organ grinded out the sighs
of christs's last thoughts
she surrendered herself to faith
A mortal action of release
that broke the moment it began.
Hanging above her, a gold cross
reflects the light of the sun, spilling
it onto her.
Radiating her face, replacing
the ashen with red warmth.
Candles flickered as the choir
bellowed from the balcony.
Her frail frame strenghened by
the desire to find eternal peace
raised its arms towards the crucifix
above, and she felt the warmth
of repentance run through her veins.
It was the only time her children saw her smile.