SAMEDI 18

found a poem in one of my mother’s old notebooks…

Samedi 18

I shall wait one more week -- that will make two

Then when I have still heard nothing--

I shall begin again and go on

I shall listen to the music I have always loved

     And visit the places dear to me

I shall type his poems and ground them for myself

     and ..... for myself.

I shall love (perhaps) again

I shall amass the fibers of my life from the far corners where the wind has whisked them.

The world will begin again (painfully slowly at first)

     where it stopped that day when he said, on 

     the bed -- Will you marry me?

     And I breathed Yes.

I shall re-find my old friends and make new.

I shall take up my old pleasures and discover fresh.

I shall love the old and appreciate the innovative.

I shall be more cynical, more skeptical, less laughing

     and perhaps,

     perhaps,

     a thought wiser

But I will not crumple, crumble and die.