GLIMPSES

It is a slow change. The little sorrows
hold your hand like a parent and child,
to always remind you of simple things
that get lost in the world.

You’re home finally, but your heart
won’t seem to chime in.

In the middle of the night, when we’re off
in other worlds, we try to turn off one light
and turn on another. There are times
when I don’t want to open my eyes, because the world
and the weight will be what I see.

It is not sad to think about
one day not living here anymore, people not wondering
who was here before them.

In the middle of the night,
my body—light as the spirit—floats high
above the sadness and fear. If only I could hold onto
those little glimpses and dreams,
until a little sunlight gets through.

(October 24, 2007)