The Certainty of Work
by Theodora Goss
That night I lay in bed,
a compact bundle of nerve and muscle and bone,
under the coverlet,
wondering where my life was going
and where it had gone.
Feeling the darkness around me
promising nothing — no future except the dark
of the grave at last,
and until then, the certainty of work.
Work for pay, so I could have shelter and food,
and the truer work
that inheres in the bone and blood —
the work that is in me while I breathe
and write.
So I lay
alone with despair and hope
in the quiet night.
(The print is by the Japanese artist Ohara Koson.)
Theodora Goss: Poems 
Thank you for this one perfect timing I am coming to the end of a long week of silence and solitude that got a bit dark today so I have turned on the internet and the japanese print is lovely, Diane
I’m very glad it was helpful in some way, and yes, isn’t the print lovely? I just discovered Ohara Koson and love his art. I posted a fox print of his as well, to go with a fox poem for today. All best wishes with your work!