When I Live in the Night

Life has turned again, which it does when living with a mother whose mind says one thing and body says another. So 3 a.m. comes again and again.

I can go months without reading poetry, but suddenly the words return. This one from Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer





Into the Dark Again

by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Dark and getting darker—

nothing to do but to make of the body

a home for darkness,

to open every secret drawer

where we hide our private darknesses.

Who knows what might happen then?

How immeasurable we are. It is only

terrifying until it becomes freedom.

Grace comes in the strangest costumes.

Did you really think you didn’t need help?

This night, stay awake.

Some things we can see no other way.