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From today’s Writers Almanac

Riveted, by Robyn Sarah from A Day’s Grace: Poems 1997-2002.river_bluff_4.jpg

It is possible that things will not get better
than they are now, or have been known to be.
It is possible that we are past the middle now.
It is possible that we have crossed the great water
without knowing it, and stand now on the other side.
Yes: I think that we have crossed it. Now
we are being given tickets, and they are not
tickets to the show we had been thinking of,
but to a different show, clearly inferior.

Check again: it is our own name on the envelope.
The tickets are to that other show.

It is possible that we will walk out of the darkened hall
without waiting for the last act: people do.
Some people do. But it is probable
that we will stay seated in our narrow seats
all through the tedious dénouement
to the unsurprising end — riveted, as it were;
spellbound by our own imperfect lives
because they are lives,
and because they are ours.

{ADDED 10:45 AM: That old adage, about bad things coming in threes? I was hoping it wasn’t true. But this morning, more bad news: a friend of ours has passed on after a long illness. I am not sure I have room for more sadness in my body, and yet it is there. I am waiting for spring, for some kind of corner to turn on this new year, for hope to find its way to the surface and bloom. For all of us.}

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