A poem by Adrienne Cecile Rich (1929 – 2012)

It will not be simple, it will not take long

It will take little time, it will take all your thought

It will take all your heart, it will take all your breath

It will be short, it will not be simple

It will touch through your ribs, it will take all your heart

It will not take long, it will occupy all your thought

As a city is occupied, as a bed is occupied

It will take your flesh, it will not be simple

You are coming into us who cannot withstand you

You are coming into us who never wanted to withstand you

You are taking parts of us into places never planned

You are going far away with pieces of our lives

It will be short, it will take all your breath

It will not be simple, it will become your will

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