FROM EXILE

She waits in the shadows
Of a winter evening’s dusk

Eyes grown slowly dim

Everything slowing down

Children wandering

Away and astray

The tight control

On life’s unfolding

Unravelled

In exile

Looking homeward

With a wondering

Would it have been

Better not to have left

At all in the first place?

The question might

Be better left

Unasked in the end

The answer left

Unsaid.