Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five
and everyone you love is made of stardust,
and I know
you cannot even breathe deeply, and
the night sky is no home, and
you have cried yourself to sleep enough
that you are down to your last two percent,
nothing is infinite,
not even loss.
You are made of the sea and the stars, and
you are going to find yourself again.
~ Finn Butler – from her Collection of Poems, From The Wreckage