The Widow
Charles Goldie
I am stepping lightly into the world again,
testing the waters of Widowhood with tentative toes.
I have been wandering slowly and hesitantly in Blogland
appreciating the kind words of condolence
and trying to find my way back to posting.
I see the birds come to feed, and the year prepare for winter.
The stark beauty of bare branches touches my heart
but my life seems circumscribed
by one reality
and my mind at rest is the dwelling place of only one lonely thought.
Since early in our marriage I have cherished this poem by Sara Teasdale
The Beloved
It is enough of honour for one lifetime
To have known you better than the rest have known,
The shadows and the colours of your voice,
Your will, immutable and still as stone.
The shy heart, so lonely and so gay,
The sad laughter and the pride of pride,
The tenderness, the depth of tenderness,
Rich as the earth and wide as heaven is wide.
Time is the great healer, and December is here,
the month of love and new beginnings.
Tomorrow I will plant the paper whites!
