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)