NOT YET THE DAY
I am sore afraid -
Yet I have lived as others only dream of living,
I have loved as others only dream of loving,
Had they a mere glimpse of such earthly paradise.
I have loved from the soul
And known the growth of love
From youth's first passionate embrace
Through all the eagerness and ardor
Of each intoxicating day;
Through all the yearning and the ecstacy
Of our orgasmic, blissful nights.
Then came the second stage of love,
Deepened and matured to a mellow, golden glow
That even now bursts into incandescent flame;
And yet - I am afraid!
I, who have been loved
By many and by one
And oh! that one adores me still!
I have savoured the sorrow and the pain of life
And even touched despair,
Given of myself and relished every sacrifice
And been rewarded a thousandfold
For every precious hurt sustained;
And still - I am afraid!
I have tasted life to the full,
Drunk of my children's happiness,
Shared in their dreams and their glory,
Indulged in their hopes and their doubts;
Hovered as they climbed each mountain
And triumphant, gained the summit
Even as I did;
Yet still - I am afraid!
I am too young!
Such a foolish cry, for who is old enough?
I am not ready!
But when does that time come?
What arrogance! What greed!
Rapacious, demanding woman,
What more do you seek?
What reasons will you give?
How cajole and beseech the gods?
They will cry when you are gone -
Do not ask them not to.
And one will hope to join you soon;
Rejoice in that and do not ask for more,
Still - sore afraid and wistful,
I am resigned.
E-mail: Rufina Bernardetti Silva Mausenbaum