Salvation

It is Annie who is present in the dream.  
Of her will she came.  
There was no revival, no one sang. 
Nobody pled 
for an altar call or confession.  

 Nobody thought Annie sought forgiveness.  

 Annie appeared in a dress she wore 
never on Sundays,
in this way, made clear
it was not her intent to stay.

 Instead she came 
to release me from fear of my death, 
from a fevered dream 
of a face indistinct as a cloud. 

 Her cool hand recalls me from sleep, 
her blue veined hand 
that scrapes half an apple with a knife. 
Her fingers drip 
juice and raw pulp on my lips.

 Then she tells me: Stand.
I rise from my sickbed and walk 
as a child of man.