Outside the house the wind is howling
and the trees are creaking horribly.
This is an old story
with its old beginning,
as I lay me down to sleep.
But when I wake up, sunlight
has taken over the room.
You have already made the coffee
and the radio brings us music
from a confident age. In the paper
bad news is set in distant places.
Whatever was bound to happen
in my story did not happen.
But I know there are rules that cannot be broken.
Perhaps a name was changed.
A small mistake. Perhaps
a woman I do not know
is facing the day with the heavy heart
that, by all rights, should have been mine.
~Lisel Mueller “In November” from Alive Together

It does not escape me~
(I awake every day knowing this)
a disastrous earthquake happened somewhere else,
a war ravages families on both sides of a border,
a windstorm leveled a town,
a drunk driver devastated two families,
a fire left a house in ashes,
a mother nearly died giving birth,
a flood ravaged a village,
a grim diagnosis darkened
someone’s remaining days.

No mistake has been made,
yet I awake knowing this part of my story
has yet to visit me –
I hear of so much suffering,
knowing the heavy heart
that could have been mine
still beats,
still breaks,
still aches,
still believes in grace, mercy, and miracles.