Threshold

    by Elise Hempel

When does the recent past become

the distant past, when does a loss –

still new, unreal – begin to cross

into memory’s catacombs?

How many months create the door

through which the daze and doubt of grief

pass and slacken to belief,

and then a steady faith? How long before

your silent room – unbroken sun

on an empty sill, the stripped bed –

is just a scene, I glance instead

of stepping in?

© 2015  Elise Hempel

+ previously published in Autumn Sky Poetry Daily

Elise Hempel's poems have appeared in many journals over the years, including Poetry, the Spoon River Poetry Review, Measure, Able Muse, Valparaiso Poetry Review, and The Midwest Quarterly. Her chapbook Only Child was published by Finishing Line Press in 2014, and her first full-length book of poems will be published by Able Muse Press in 2016. She is the 2015 winner of the Able Muse Write Prize for Poetry.