Faithful and Virtuous Night

by Louise Glück

If it is so difficult to begin, imagine what it will be to end—

I remained puzzled less by my soul’s retreat than by its return, since it returned empty-handed—

I write about you all the time, I said aloud. Every time I say “I,” it refers to you.

But how will I know, the child asked, it is the right train? It will be the right train, said the woman, because it is the right time.

Mother died last night, Mother who never dies.