From Denise Levertov’s A Woman Alone
When half her bed is covered with books
and no one is kept awake by the reading light
and she disconnects the phone to sleep till noon
self-pity dries up, a joy
untainted by guilt lifts her.
She has fear, but not about loneliness;
fears about how to deal with the aging
of her body – how to deal
with photographs and the mirror. She feels
so much younger and more beautiful
than she likes.
…she is past the time of mourning
now she can say without shame or deceit
O blessed solitude.