Otherwise by Jane Kenyon

I can’t sleep. I can’t remember the last time I was able to stop, breathe, and just enjoy the moment. To be — just be. To be just me. And be happy with that. So tonight, while I wait to fall asleep, this is what I’ll be doing. I am lying in bed, staring up the ceiling, summoning all the joy I have for being here, and for being me.

Otherwise
Jane Kenyon

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

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