CBTBWbest.jpg

Cheryl Boyce-Taylor

On the eve of my 66th birthday when I first wrote the poem I was deeply despondent over the death of my son. The loss brought up sadness for his twin brother who left us at his birth almost forty-six years ago. The evening was cold and icy gray. I felt more alone than I had ever felt before. Walking down the steps to the F train I was focused on loneliness and aging.

As I revised the poem for submission, I realized that I had so much to be thankful for. The flowers that I loved so much, a new wife at home, loving friends and family, and a new collection of poems that I was really proud of. I recreated the poem to be one of thanks and gratitude. I realized that I could glorify the earth with my weeping, praise the day that I was born, and share my story in the hopes of connecting with someone else.

< draft >

last day of 66




< REVISION >

Sixty-sixth December