getting old

Drip of the water
as i slowly take note of the sunshine
and what was snow now flowing
life and matter
flowers and the push of Spring
where you wake up a little more inside …
find what is new
what to be happy with and about

it is a day where simply normal would be nice
and i think of old loves and how
each somehow came with disappointments
and how each time i had to start new
(fresh is a concept)

until finally it was the starting over that
became too big a burden
you get old …

yet the spirit smiles at the ducks and the
quail and all the birds happy for their time
in this world
the songs as i sip my coffee, say hello to a neighbor
walking by
and there’s not a lot of room to brood
over the past

i hang it on a wall
the water drips and the world
has always been
a place of strange renewal

as i look on
i want to say it’s not that bad
but some things were really really bad
it’s because you don’t let the worry touch you
all remains at its distance

i have to be whatever it is that i am …
not confused or spun into a deepening grave
it’s the height
it’s the vision … the part that can look all ways
forward and back

i don’t know that i smile that much at it all
but i consider what it means to be fortunate
not so much having what was planned, but being grateful
for what has settled on your plate — for where you have been

and sometimes the spirit goes bitter
falls into a pattern of remorse
but that’s a little harder to do in Spring
where the birds are happy and so much
is just getting its start

too many times i find myself hoping to be the person i was,
dreaming of a future filled with possibilities
so that is a the difference.

i’m not that girl anymore
and I’ve never been adult enough to be an adult
i suppose it comes down to understanding yourself

some things are better a mystery
it was always ………. and i mean always …..
about the joy.

where you don’t just feel happiness
you are the happiness
something like that can’t be shaken
even tangled roots are deep
and you count yourself lucky
to be a part of whatever this is

doesn’t matter how you are seen
…………. inside, the world was never better
never held more
and tears find their way to a better place
somewhere between today and tomorrow
don’t forget i love you
part of a picture held so close
that hurting doesn’t matter

you see my time was special
because i was never jealous
in setting it free

i don’t worry too much
or maybe i worry all the time
but you can always find me

i’m the one who never says ‘i told you so’
because that part of growing up
left me wondering how i could be different

so yes i sip on my aging coffee mug
breathing in a bit of Spring sunshine
put out a very dull cigarette (worlds and worlds, my friend)
every single past doesn’t exactly
smile but the smile is there–and it’s not only
good to be alive …

it’s about being alive to be good

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5 thoughts on “getting old

  1. K. A. Brace

    Insouciance
    My thought is a curve of wing
    Catching imagined sky beneath
    And gentle passes my insistence
    Of detachment from all solidity
    Where the genesis of this day
    Lies unresolved to hands grasped
    Tightly to its hem to hold it back.
    I violin my words in strands
    Heard only close enough to tell
    What needs and wants to voice
    The remains of beauty left behind
    In the trampling rush for significance,
    A meaning lost in the crushed light
    Of innocence sold but never used.
    Understanding unfolds itself
    In waiting for the proof of all
    That has been taken to be enough
    To soothe the wounds of smiles
    Filled with filed teeth of scars
    To leave their marks as testaments
    To the fragile nature of the heart.
    I am forsaking all I have inherited
    From the nests of perjured souls
    And am returning to myself
    The flesh I have finally found
    A use for in resisting all that comes
    With the growing darkness
    By laughing in its face.

    • eebrinker

      thanks, Don … the interesting fact that even if you are old, don’t necessarily see yourself as an old person. my grandma raised me, and she was always the same to me because she started out as the elderly parent. in my mind i just had her “stamped” as that and i think on that now and how we change over the course of time — but what stays the same is what will mainly define who you are.

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