The refuge is the same – 
this space
this bedroom and kitchen
this bath
and all the chairs – 
this place where my mother retreated 
after a lifetime of hurt
and 
disappointment
and 
fear,
and lived out the days she had hoped to live
in blessed union
on her own, alone, and lonely.

Why? I will never know or understand.

But, for me, I do believe – 
only the refuge is he same – 
as I rest here now, 
looking forward with hope to God’s plan.