I am looking for a past <br />I can rely on <br />in order to look to death <br />with equanimity. <br />What was given me: <br />my mother’s largeness <br />to protect me, <br />my father’s regularity <br />in coming home from work <br />at night, his opening the door <br />silently and smiling, <br />pleased to be back <br />and the lights on <br />in all the rooms <br />through which I could run <br />freely or sit at ease <br />at table and do my homework <br />undisturbed: love arranged <br />as order directed at the next day. <br />Going to bed was a journey.<br /><br />David Ignatow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-journey-106/
