From Wild Love, 1996, by Nancy Wood (published only in Japanese)
In my middle-aged weariness I lived with the ache
of memory. My days were flushed with shadows
of desire which sent me on paths where I had gone before,
certain each new love would be the last.
Who was I, then? A woman who yearned for happiness,
the kind that other people have? A woman with
a shrinking horizon that imprisoned me within
the walls of indecision? I worked as women work,
fearlessly and uncomplaining, knowing
I would survive. Then love came along
through the blindness of my fear and touched my heart
with music I’d never heard before. I am too old
for silliness, but I am silly now, too old for love, but love
insists on being recognized. Letting go of loneliness
is easier than holding on to fear. In my twilight years
I gather moonbeams, knowing they are real.