Comes The Dawn

I came across this poem again. It's a favorite of mine. It disappeared into my sea of papers when I moved five years ago. It's a clipping taken from a newspaper from an old Ann Landers column where she had reprinted it at the request of a reader. The clipping is so seemingly ancient, the paper is yellowish brown and brittle with age. The poem itself is timeless. Here it is.

"Comes the Dawn"

by Veronica A. Shoffstall

"After a while you learn the subtle difference

Between holding a hand and chaining a soul

And you learn that love doesn't mean security,

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts

And presents aren't promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head up and your eyes open

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today,

Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,

And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine

Burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden, and decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure...

That you really are strong,

And you really do have worth.

And you learn and learn...

With every goodbye, you learn."

Namaste.