you were happy, then you were sad,
then happy again, then not.
You were innocent, or you were guilty
actions were taken, or not
at times you spoke and at other times you were silent
mostly it seems you were silent
what could you say?
Now it is almost over
like a lover your life bends down and kisses your life
it does this not in forgiveness
between you there is nothing to forgive
but with a simple nod of a baker at the moment he sees the bread is finished
with transformation
eating too is a thing now only for others
It doesn't matter what they will make of you or your days
they will be wrong
they will miss the wrong woman
miss the wrong man
all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention
Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,
you slept, you awakened.
Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.
- Jane Hirshfield
