It is inevitable.
You must return
to stillness. As the nights

grow longer, and the veil
thins between
this world

and the next,
let your body be
the instrument

that guides you
back to the sweet dusk
of your own quiet

emptiness. Linger here
with your holy breath

and your tranquility,
for sorrow
is the exfoliation

of the soul
and compassion,
the candle 

that will light you
through the


Sit around autumn’s table
with the heart so full
of sweetness

and of sorrow, and the fragrant
oven that warms you
like this subtle transformation

of friendships turning quietly
into family. Your loss reverberates
through the hearts of the others,

and the wine is passed,
and the chocolate is passed,
and the candles

push through the darkness
like the laughter that you still manage
to somehow find.

Late Autumn Morning

Morning Mist-Kit Hevron Hahoney

Painting:  Morning Mist by Kit Hevron Mahoney

Onetime oranges
and auburns melt
into the rising

landscape. There is
no denying
that the world 

is past the change.
But as you
find stillness 

beneath softened
something new

emerges quietly –
perhaps it is
the knowledge

of your own two feet,
and not of what has grown,
but rather, of what

has fallen away,
leaving you
the blessed opportunity

to be filled with
nothing but this
impeccable daybreak.

Old Woman

Remind me to get off on
being an old woman,
to love this husk

of body even as
it peels away
from all that is left

of me. Tell me,
in no uncertain terms,
to celebrate 

the letting go, the falling
away and the eventual
discarding. Please read

to me a poem
about love
when soft shapes

and colors
are all that are left
of my vision,

and pink sunrise walks
have receded to dreams.
Remind me

about freedom,
and of the great,
dark mystery

that I spent
a lifetime trying
to understand.