Comes the Dawn

comes the dawn

after a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn that love doesn’t mean security
and you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes open
with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight
after a while you learn
that even sunshine burns if you get too much
so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers
and you learn that you really can endure . . .
that you really are strong
and you learn that you really do have worth
and you learn and learn . . .
with every goodbye you learn

authoress unknown

I first received a copy of this poem in college, from my advisor at the UT Texas Union, named Carol. She herself had gone through a divorce and, although we didn’t know it, was involved in a relationship with another advisor in our office that had to be kept secret. This was a poem that spoke volumes about Carol's own experiences. In either fall 1990 or spring 1991, she started an informal “women’s group” at the office for whoever wanted to join in and just talk about “woman’s stuff.” It was a great time to be a woman in Austin and UT—Ann Richards was in office and inspired all of us, young and old, to be ourselves, find ourselves, explore all the possibilities available to us because of and in spite of being women. She read this out loud at our first meeting, held on the upstairs patio at the Union. I can’t even remember if I ever went to another meeting, but I’ve had a copy of this poem in my possession ever since then. It has spoken to me at my saddest and lowest points in my relationship, and I have given copies to friends and women I’ve just met when I’ve thought they might need it. Today, I was “cleaning up” some files on my computer and found this poem again, like a long-lost friend. I love this poem as much as I love the poetry that was read at my wedding, because although it relates to the sadness and the aloneness of not being with another person, it is just as inspiring when you most need it. In fact, I have a friend in mind who might find some comfort in these words right now. Thanks Carol, for sending me out into the "real world" with this.