When your life looks back—
as it will, at itself, at you — what will it say?
Your life will carry you as it did always,
with ten fingers and both palms,
with horizontal ribs and upright spine,
with its filling and emptying heart,
that wanted only your own heart, emptying, filled, in return.
You gave it. What else could you do?
Jane Hirshfield, When Your life looks back