Elders
They are a stand of bitter wisdom trees
eyes revolving inwards like moons
beguiling faces smiling down upon us.
They don’t mention (or only in passing)
the ways the world is slipping from them:
the deft departure of the boyhood friend,
the driver's license routinely revoked,
the inability to leave the bath without resting
—shamefully—on its side.
Soon they’re talking of other things,
our things, pressing things like
which school to put the children in or
where to go this year on holiday…
it must take all their strength and love
to play along with folly; sustain fantasy
of growth without decline. Hold back
the hidden long enough to lend us time to flower;
immure us from what cankers in their limbs—
our inheritance, rank knowledge
of everything.
- Michele Seminara 2014
5 comments:
I like the poem very much but I just didn’t think Michele Seminara was old enough to write something like this. Browning said the best is yet to come but, alasm the worst is also.
Very nice poem, Michele ... and so true. Sorry to say I'm well aware of the pains and fatigue of mature age. You portrayed it well in "Elders".
I fear Browning's right, Donal. I must have an old head on (unfortunately not young, but) middle-aged shoulders.
I am violating all my editorial principles (well one anyway) to say I just turned 50 and feel blessed to have made it this far. Too many good ones didn't. Much to celebrate, especially as writers, in the accumulation of years!
Tender and (honestly) severe, Michele . . . moving. I read it several times.
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