What The Light Tells

Most of it is black, and the beginning goes on
And on; endings, too, it seems, don't end.
Grief you never do will never stop
Undoing you. An email from a lover
Whose only home I am, she says, two years
After I left it. And another love
I’ve had to shut down, as if one can. And last
Night, my daughter, her single evening with me
Of each week, won't sit beside me on
The couch, but listens, where she lies, and laughs
As I read, as if the world my voice
Makes of the book is the safest place she knows.
Start over, make a hearth, shape a living
Constellating all the points of light.
Like your daughter, be braver than you know
How to be brave.
Write with your days the lines
That run between the stars. Have faith only
In the long story that's run from the start.