I’m circling the wagons tonight,
declaring a truce in the ongoing war
of me against myself.

Save those potshots for tomorrow;
I’ll still be fat and flabby,
sometimes clumsy, often running late,
still too slow with the perfect rejoinder,
frequently anxious about almost anything,
still waste time, money,
still owe apologies,
and still eat ice cream till I’m more than full.

It’s just a temporary reprieve.
Those barbs and more can all be flung tomorrow.

Let’s have a moratorium tonight.
The winds over the ocean have calmed down
after a very blustery day,
and a waxing crescent waltzes across the sky,
reflection sparkling on the waves below.
We ate salmon by candlelight
and laughed as we did the dishes.
The second camelia blossom of the season
is floating in a bowl of water,
grandchildren smiled on a video call,
and friends chitter-chattered on texts.
My Beloved is here beside me.
I sit with myself-as-I-am,
complete, knowing nothing needs to change,
feeling sweet contentment
and the arising of joy.

Author: Cynthia Bernard

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