April 19: One-a-Day in Celebration of National Poetry Month

by Sandra Williams

               Now
  a time with little of it left
I gather gently to my breast
        all my life

   not to sort as pictures in a box
into tidy stacks by time and place
  but as Harvest do they come
    their random fruits to trace

      remembrances to keep
  what I sowed, what I reaped
    how and whom I loved
           when and where
   what was given me to bear
 what was taken, what received
of all I once too easily believed--

A maze it seemed I thought I knew
   in all directions I could choose
but was a labyrinth I wandered through
along its unicursal way of hope and fear
                  leading to the center
                         now and here

I reminiscence with gratitude, in joy, in pain
      at times mythologizing all that’s been
           or seeing clearly parts I played
                     in life’s grand drama
                  self and heaven made

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