Weeping may tarry for the night,
but joy comes in the morning.
Psalm 30

Like the smaller child
in front of the television,
desire pulls, nags, cries
“Let’s go, I’m hungry!”

Lethargy grouses, kicks
his brother, won’t lift
a hand to a light switch
in the darkening room.

Weeping slips into my bed.
When morning birds sing joy,
aches in sleep-stiffened joints
try to shout them down.

Any moment now, two urgent
children will jump on my bed,
demand I take sides, choose
between wanting and not wanting.

I hold out a hand to each.

Ellen Roberts Young has two full-length collections, Made and Remade (2014) and Lost in the Greenwood (2020) as well as poems in numerous print and online journals. Her third chapbook with Finishing Line Press, Transported, came out in early 2021. She is an editor of Sin Fronteras/Writers Without Borders Journal. www.ellenrobertsyoung.com