When I face what has left my life,
I bow.  I walk outside into the cold,
rain nesting in my hair.
All the houses near me
have their lights on.  Somewhere,
there is a deep listening.
I stand in the dark for a long time
under the walnut tree, unable
to tell anyone, not even the night,
what I know.  I feel the darkness
rush towards me, and I open my arms.

From Blue Bowl (Blue Begonia Press). Copyright © 2000 by Lynn Martin.
Posted by kind permission of the poet.