Author: Elizabeth Maynard

If poets had a rule book
page seventeen would remind
one must reference fate
or better destiny
leave the reader with
something other to inspire
beyond this wintry expanse
and the sharp edge
of a cutting wind

I've had more than enough
of the wrong things
precious little of the right

Today I choose hunger
over a life overfilled
with the weight of others' dreams

When you have finished weeping
for the life you hoped to live
lift your eyes
greet the one
better than
you had the courage
to imagine

Kindness is alive
sometimes shadowed by your fear
awaiting your sign

I tried to build a life
to lodge my longing
each object a bulwark
every careful fold evidence
in the case of my mattering

But now when I touch
this or try to
each frayed thread announces
every artifact declares
the fall of that airy empire

The temperature drops
and you despair
fleeting warmth
Lift your eyes
welcome the promise
in each icy gift

There is a shadow
with your shape to it here
ephemeral in grays and greens
It shifts with the light
cast deeper in the memory
of your words
and my longing for you to be real
again

Launch out my lantern
across the water
petals and flickering flame
a gift to Iemanja
to Ganga

While I have clung
to so many other things
this leaves soft fingers
with the prayer, the plea
to be the unreturned offering

Remember to love like this
without the hope of return
perfumed gratitude
lighting the way
from shore to river to sea

I gathered the relics of the dead
around me
to create a family
a story for myself

But you already live in me
an ancestor in each cell and sinew
this body a shrine to lives
ended and begun

We are new creatures
in bright lands awakening
now begin again