Childhood paganism

She was always more separate, more alone.
From time to time a prayer interrupted her silence,
But her prayers were foreign, they seemed more ancient than words.
You said:
She's returned to the gods of the mountains, of the sun, of the rain.
She is far. Farther than memory.
No, I whispered:
She is as close as my childhood.

Background: the grandmother's last months. A conversation between the brother and my mother.