All is Fine for Now

By John Grey

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She can go to the window,
look up at that sky sanctuary,
wallow in life’s high noon.

She can step outside,
feel the warm in the air,
how it softly remonstrates
with the cool breeze.
And traipse across 
the field of course,
in bare feet,
on grass soft enough 
to soothe the toes.

She’s not the one
fitted by day for burial.
In bright light,
she’s not confined to a coffin.
She can sample the pleasures
of sunshine 
Her hours are not restricted
to midnight’s desolate landscape.

Hers is a world to be alive in.
She can even frolic in a graveyard
and come to no harm.
Her sorrows are few.
Her desperations barely register.
Time is beneficent in brightness.

But the dark must come.
And sleep can only 
leave her vulnerable.
For now, she’s upraised
by all the good in the world.
But there’s a time and place
for my malignancy.