Constance, while this poem is enjoyable to me in its release of things inside my heart, and there is a joy in simply reading it and letting Poetry’s Mystery Ways wash your soul and give you Things Ineffable, I do want to give you a little nudge which might provide a niggle of slanty insight into Charissa’s convoluted mind and variegated heart.

Palm Sunday was in so many ways such a facade, and no one knew that except 3.
A quick perusal of Google will give some insight into the metaphor of Going Nova.

It is up to you to connect those two things with the writer who is there betwixt them, and in herself embodies them both…and is alive amidst their process.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Charissa