Lonely, we must choose our final deal

After nine months comes the crisis feared;
The knowledgw of a  total,  final loss.
With woeful pain, the soul and heart are seared,
As we feel inside  the frightful cost.

The threshold of  this world   and of the new
A place to linger, liminal and long.
We cannot see new landscapes in one view.
With misperception, we risk going wrong.

We wonder as we reach the point of choice
Who will guide us when we must decide?
Shall we hear an inner, wiser voice
Or walk with indecision as our guide?

Loss brings grief; evasion does not heal.
We may gamble on a final deal