Her Life

A sonnet for Edna St. Vincent Millay, an individualist and maverick. She died alone at 58, sitting at the bottom of her stairs. I wrote this following the format of one of her own sonnets.

Her Life

Finally when the long night has fallen,
one more ending before the end of all,
while in the quiet the late shadows pall,
you listen: your heart's desire is calling.
And then the fear and hope inside you burn
like fever ' a lonely child, ah, so small!
Trembling, you fretfully clasp your shawl
and shiver. Was this life? What did you learn?
To live for freedom and the few good friends,
to die for love that has this life outgrown '
this paltry life your art so soon transcends
and takes your soul into a place unknown.
Yet life returns you to where all dreams end,
here on the last step, weeping and alone.