Mary Ann Samyn

Walking in the dawn fog, considering grief.
Especially the grief of what others desire on our behalf.
The long distance of that. The delicate burden.
When did I give up the idea I began with?
I recall learning endurance: my face in that mirror.
Saints are famous for what they have renounced.
That's not what I mean or need.
The rose bushes I planted: will they be the thing?
Sometimes loneliness overcomes me.
Childhood too: what was that all about?
The interior life is life. The roses live there.
I notice as many times a day as it takes.