Sunday, November 16, 2008

Nov. Poem A Day 1


Too many times I’ve thought
I can’t stand it, I can’t be here
can’t stand the pain of this loss.

I always hang on , my
grip tenuous and iron steel
by turns as I hold on
to that which is going or

gone. I value the resolve that takes
me forward when what I want is
blissful sleep. The solution

comes to me gradually, seeps
into consciousness with the dusky
evening light. My legacy, the
women who walked before me
the ones who walk with me on
this same tender path.

Judy Roney

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