Perhaps Poem by Reva Kern

When my last day comes
Perhaps
That in my window
Not for an instant
A weak and trembling sun
Will slant

Then my hands, my poor discolored hands
Will still be in their tanned glory
It will slip its kiss slowly,
One last time, on my mouth and my forehead
And the flowers of my eyes, pale, but still proud
Before they close, return his light

Sun, have I adored your force and your clarity
My hot and sweet art, of its supreme gesture
You have been held captive in the heart of my poems
Like a field of ripe wheat that swells in the wind of summer
Such a page you animate and exalt in my books
O, you, sun which opens and which frees
O, you, immense friend who pride needs
Makes this grave hour, imperious and new
Where my old human heart would be heavy under the test
You are again one's visitor and one's witness.