Like our bodies imprint
Not a sign of how we rejoiced
In the seasons of our youth will remain
The sand will straighten itself
The wind will not comb our hair
Time will not sit still for us
Dates will no longer exist
Our soul will be lost in energy
ii
Nature will rebuild and
The world will close behind us
Aware only of its self-centered drama
The languages our heart knew
Will not be sung in any dreams
The faces we once cherished
Will no longer exist, exactly so
None will help me, for I will be dead
iii
Though did I help the world
That gave me learning grounds?
As the centuries drink the amputated
Routines of generations
We even flew a little, in our prime
Had some rare ideas
Experienced ourselves more fully?
We loved with the wings of everything
iv
As far as I’m concerned
It was enough to be
Dismantled so easily by age
Decline was a precise surgeon
The engineer in my genes
Knew of angels before sunrise
Though in the anonymous paths I tread
I only felt a whiteness above covet me
As if I watched myself knowing
Brevity, mortality, impermanence
So aware of each moment slipping
Until I knew the name of divinity
And it was, already time to let go.
Growing older and death can be very difficult subjects to write poetry about but you have done very, very well!
“Until I knew the name of divinity….” Beautiful & lyrical, as always. Thank you.