Solitude

Alone, I rise.
Bare branches, brittle
In the harsh cold,
Viewed through foggy panes,
Echo my aches.
Now grown old,
Not yet by years,
But aged by tears.
It is heart’s pain.

Alone, I rise
And stir the waning embers.
The woodstove’s heat,
Like life’s short vapor,
Is making its retreat.
Too many dear ones
Lives are spent,
Gone from sight,
Only waning embers.

Alone, I rise.
Dark night deepens
Over our bed lying empty.
Interrupted dreams,
Interrupted lives.
At the instant I wake
lost love is here,
So near, so dear
-then, I come to Myself.

Alone, I rise.
Shed this shell
Of human frailty.
Released from limits
To my understanding,
No doubt or fear.
For, when He calls,
With barely a sigh,
To whisper "goodbye,"
Alone, I’ll rise.