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For Tante Paula…
I know you will never read these words of mine, but I still want to say this. I love you very, very much. Please fight, for at least a few more years…
immutable things
have unknowingly moved to the horizons
forever unreachable
or
forever lost
winter lingers a bit more in your eyes
with every passing February
an alien
has seized you
an incongruous stranger
has punished you to bear
his inelegant flesh
this face that you see in the mirror
could not possibly be yours
no, you will
forever be eighteen
only to others
not to you
this absurd thing they call old age
or death
happens
or does it?
luckily
spring returns every year
wild crocuses smear the hills
in yellow and mauve
birds whistle their sweetness
into the sweet air
yet strangely not just for you
anymore
doubt
like a forgotten icicle
will never again melt
still
you find a smile
as you take your grandson’s hand
and
somehow puzzled at your
acquired clumsiness
try to match his bounciful gait
on the path to the playground.
11 comments:
What a lovely, heartfelt poem, Vesper. I really loved the winter/spring imagery and felt the truth behind your bittersweet insights. The ending pierced my heart.
Beautiful.
Nice picture of the crocuses, by the way. I love them and planted a few a couple years ago. The thing about them, though, is they arrive early and only last a little while. While they are here, though, they make things a bit more beautiful.
What a beautiful poem, Vesper, what rich and wonderful imagery. I think we can hold to the fact that spring always comes - even if the form is different from what we may be conditioned to expect. :-)
Hugs.
This actually made me cry.
Thank you, Sarah. Such is life, bittersweet, especially when one slows down and reflects upon it...
Thank you, Paul.
I've never had any succes with bulbs because of the squirrels.
Vanilla, thank you. Yes, we have to hold on to that thought...
xoxoxo
Lisa, I'm sorry and I'm glad. Thank you for a great compliment.
I like winter better.
Your words express these ideas/feelings so well! Aging is so strange and such a disembodying experience. I have such respect and admiration for those who do it gracefully.
Vesper - doubt like a forgotten icicle - that one really spoke to me. I love it. You have such a way with words.
Thank you, Bernita.
Ropi, I think that in nature, like in life, each season has its own beauty and meaning.
Thank you, Aine, and you're right.
Ello, you're so kind. Thank you!
no, you will
forever be eighteen
only to others
that is a great line!!
This made me cry also. I'm only seeing the melancholy, though I know it's more than that.
I just look at my children and want to freeze this age. My age too.
Very beautiful poem.
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