They say I am drawing,
swiftly to the end.
Well, so be it.
I have loved,
been loved,
and lost,
oh lost
much more
than ever I spoke.
I shall miss
the world's beauty,
not its awful cruelty.
It was overall good,
this journey
with its stops
I should have shunned,
its detours taken.
But it is too late
to rue the day
when night falls.
I pause at
the gate in the wall,
a little fearful,
a little sad,
not for the going,
but for all
that's left behind.
There, across
the dark garden,
a door opens,
light spills out.
I take the first
of my last steps
home.
Bonnie Thurston, The Paraclete Poetry Anthology: Selected and New Poems, ed. by Mark S. Burrows (Paraclete Press, 2016)
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