A Vision

I see myself an old woman,
Lying, one morning,
On my deathbed.

It would be so clear then.

The painful things-
Wasted wanting, worries,
Time spent following some anxious call,
Dark roads of fear.

The things that were good
Would flash before me
Like stars-
Every moment with a child,
Walks with my husband,
Each hand held out to a friend,
Like a light in the universe.

And the tasks-menial, redundant
Wouldn’t seem so bad after all,
But like pebbles on the path,
Order out of chaos.

Is this clarity only available
For those brief moments
At the end
Or can this vision
Shake clean my perspective
Like the fresh sheet of a day
Before me?

By Maria Brady=Smith
Photo by Mike Smith