80

        Now that I've gone beyond the middle middle

I wrote at forty seven

feeling at last I'd got there,

maturity, I mean,

borne children

watched one barely survive death one winter weekend

fought with my husband and made up

wept and laughed, grieved and let go—

how long and young ago was that

Now that I've gone beyond the Bible's life span

been warned by the psalmist, dour as Ecclesiastes

that everything is bleak and dark

I rejoice in family, friends, flowers

dance at my granddaughter's wedding

weep at another marriage broken

laugh as we sit twelve at a table meant for eight

Now that I've twice (almost)

gone beyond the middle middle

I smile at statistics I could never comprehend

I see death's shadow stretch its barren trees

showing structure and surprising beauty,

promising that the journey does not end.

Perhaps now—forgetting fat maturity—

I'm ready to let go

into the questioning child

        who has always understood

that love is endless

numbers do not threaten

and Yes! Each day is a new challenge

a new birth.

~Madeleine L'Engle