Author: Elizabeth Maynard

I begin to see you:
adding more to the long list
I created for myself
so we will both
feel perpetually convinced
of my inadequacy

I owe myself three lives:
One for the life I slept
One for the life I wept
One for the new life dawning

I have been sick long enough
to have forgotten what it was
to be well
the aches and sleepless nights
now more ordinary than exception
turning toward darkness
I run stiff fingers along
this body once familiar
meet myself again
and for the first time

The first rain after a long drought
dances across this dusty path
each drop shudders and is held
breathless as the earth refuses
will not surrender to what was promised
but was too long in coming

I know where your clothes are
the ones you outgrew
body and mind
here at the end of the world
they warm each of these
who never knew
what it is to call
a thing their very own

Rain was promised
great rivers of it
to fill every emptiness
quench even this first

We wait
lips parched
for the thunderheads
and all that may come

I've spent hours
on plans grand and simple
pen and paper testify
to both will and weakness
every effort to make this
and the next day matter

You prepared for the worst
brought in provisions
for the long hunger

You thought it your duty
to endure the hardship
lie sleepless and full of worry

Now you wonder
what it will be
to rest easy, laugh out loud

What words can I give
to the end of your broken life?
You stumbled and fell
from birth to this last day
when, unbidden
you left the world, amazed

I pretended to be busy today
mostly to myself
pushed words around the page
and through the air
imagined them real
instead of staring into
the white light of your grief