Groggily waking to the cry of my newborn
in the next room, I remember giving thanks
for the sound of life at dawn.
I never took my baby’s breath for granted.
Yet now, in an empty house,
it takes effort not to roll over with a groan
when a buzzer rouses me from dreams.
I’ve sat shiva for too many
who should have lived
to see another day.
And so I remind myself with a prayer
to be grateful my soul didn’t
slip away in my sleep.
Modah Ani. I have been granted
another dawn to reject despair and
discover what else awaits before
my days come to an end.
Originally published in Poetica Magazine
