Year Six

You who watch the toxins flow Into our veins can never know The anguish hedged by spectral hope That leaves us clinging to life's rope. Try as we might, we know the day Will come when we will fade away; Deep in our secret selves we've set Our limit, which we've not reached yet. But once the sun will rise and taunt Us to let go, if we should want, And then, despite our faithful hold On hands so warm and rings of gold, We'll turn into the lovely light Where all is calm and all is bright, Where all the needles are of pine, And drips are rain, and we're divine. Resolved we are to stay as long As yet we can, and love the song That filters through the unspoke fear: What time is left? A month? A year? One incandescent hour of life As loving mother, much-loved wife, That's all I've ever really sought, And that my fate's already brought. The rest is emeralds in my hair: These days of privilege, nights of prayer.