Author: Elizabeth Maynard

Some Sundays drag their feet
others spring and sway
side to side like young love
at the middle school dance
so little rest before before
and the ever-growing future

Be careful what you promise:
the world is full of too many words
spoken and never lived

Each step limping now
I find my way to your door
hoping you will open  

I saw your tent
here from the train
as we sped by
and wondered if
you made a home there
from pleasure 
or necessity

How do you leave here - 
like the child running for home
or a long last breath?

I flew until these wings
broke free from my body
to twirl earthward
like so many fallen things
bury themselves in the dark
and rise again to new life

There is nothing left 
of that person you tried to be
before you knew the world
and all its turnings

Yesterday bright-shining
woke you from distracted gazing
to imagine darkness
and its consolation

Tell me a story
about every lovely thing
lost and found again

One morning you wake
and your burden is lifted
after all these years