The time will come and say, sit here. Eat. all your life, whom you ignored the photographs, the desperate notes, Derek Walcott 
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.