life began on a morning after forty.

upon the realization that your memoir has

written itself, life will begin again

after you have taught the children to

walk and speak, and take the train to work

by themselves, after the original husband

stands posturing back somewhere beyond

your threshold, and the ashes of the arduous

lover have dissolved into the cold northern

Atlantic, you will rise an hour after dawn

on a cool morning, and stand in the

middle of a room that has carefully held

every human emotion, with a soft cat

pressing against your leg, and a

warm cup in your hands, you will finally

recognize yourself for the first time

upon the realization that you will

struggle until you no longer fight, you

will drown until you learn to swim, you

must love yourself in spite of fear

and hatred in the world, you must continue

on instead of giving up, you will suddenly

own yourself like tarnished brilliance,

the paragon on a forgotten shipwreck

© 8.24.2018 heather brager