Weight of years
bent her body,
small round shoulders now,
pull of ground found curving back too.
Late afternoon,
sunlight through yellowed shades
energizing motes and specks
coating kitchen walls, white tiles
come golden, time sits with us;
hands that seem molded
to so much that they have done
so many acts of caring
with threaded needle,
childhood wonders
of goodness, memories
in wafted aromas and touch.
Treasured moments standing
so near the door,
life has an end we are assured,
some seem simply to wait,
others dispel day with force of love.
Turning eyes to shared thought
and action, for children of children;
and happiness rises to her skin
and lips purse their words;
smiling upon their tomorrows
sweet like cinnamon sugar.
Skin seems soft to the eye
thinning touchable skin
leaving memory on fingertips,
hair a soft vignette of gentle eyes;
breathing has the quality of sleep.
Every silence and pause is noted
by knowing smile or glance,
she is still here,
still so much my love
in precious frail package.
Author notes
Inspired by: An exerpt from "Twilight" by Irene Walton
"It's too late when they've gone to shed a tear,
nature won't change...though the ways
it was part of yourselves you were keeping near
for the old one was all your yesterdays.
And the old one would say, "Look to your son,
please my dear, waste not your sorrows.
I'm at peace, at last my day is done-
the children are your tomorrows."
In a list
A contest entry
- Twilight by Laura Lamarca.
500 points, ended January 23, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Gray hair and wrinkles by Danna Hobart.
375 points, ended March 12, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Love's Many Faces by i.love.you.baby.
600 points, ended May 22, 58 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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Excellent, 'skid.
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thank you Mairi-
so we each have an unrequited poem...or few..
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Och I've a hale shed-load o'sich! Gaes wi' the territory.
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You paint a beautiful picture that puts a lump in my throat. Thank you for entering my contest.
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This is a wonderful poem. You captured the somewhat deeper more loving notes of aging unlike my contest entry. Every word that Echidna said I convey as well. I love how you have written this.
It's been two years since my grandmother passed and I am able to see your truth more now though the pain has not passed entirely. I think the painful part of helping someone I love pass, was her fighting the passing, this is the heaviness in my poem. Even more to know that I administered the last dose that helped her let go and then finally took a few hours sleep only to find her then gone. I understand how they sometimes wait for us to leave but they say grieving is a process that is not identical for any human and it as well transforms or typically upsets our belief system which goes through a retransformation as well. My mother is a social worker and prior to her mother's passing took a grief counceling seminar to help her geriatric patients. She seemed to sail through the loss of her mother and I still cry at the drop of picture or even writing this. Sorry didn't mean to gone on
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Oh wow, this is truly magnificent. A whole story told in vivid detail and exceptional imagery. It was like I could see her, like I was actually there. What an amazing piece you have penned here dear poet. I won't be entering this one - this has gold sprinkled all over it! Just stunning. What an absolute pleasure to read... x Love and light, Lavender Butterfly.
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I love the way you located her in the kitchen, although stereotyped, this is the image of the heart of the home, and the golden light is high praise of the role of nurture in life. The threaded needles, cinnamon sugar, quality of sleep all reinforce this. From weight of years to frail package, love shines.
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Thank you Echidna
the kitchen, as if doing something wonderful, she'd be creating something...for someone's happiness...PK
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Simply beautiful, took me back to so many women I've know in my life- makes me want to pick up the phone and call
the ones that are left. This really touched me, thank you.
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Thank you Rowan
this was my feeling too, a wished for moment ...a moment not savored, is a regret...PK
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"golden" in L9 & L17...you know I'm a stickler for repetition
This is almost dreamlike, soft and gentle and full of imagery and delicate description. Well written indeed. Thank you for entering and good luck in the judging. Laura x
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