No Longer Asking

There’s a clarity that comes with age,

confusion on the run

 

The light much brighter deep inside,

no writing on the come

 

My youth endeavors, drifting lines,

those hedges where I’d hide

 

Have all been trimmed or taken down,

left nothing to deny

 

There’s a clarity that comes with age,

lens sharpened, filters off

 

Regrets left bleeding where they fell,

to die amongst the frost

 

When morning comes my eyes are clear,

the past a long goodbye

 

My vision focused on my dreams

—no longer asking why

 

(Bryn Mawr College: April, 2020)

 

 

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