Category: aging

Where Are The Dogs?

Contemplating risk –
a reunion with a former self
looking for an exit

When did I become a snake
restrained?
When did I become persona non grata?

I slither between stories
convince myself I can fly
distraction a ruse

I have big cat energy
overstepping boundaries
socially adverse

A faulty jewel
dreaming of abundance
 but there’s a dragon to disarm

My mother’s burden on my back
identity a slippery grasp
always outrunning disaster

Fraternize with celebrity, but
too busy boarding
Warehousing:

spiders in the cellar
straight pins on the floor
newspapers akimbo

How will I put self first
while catering to others, upended?
Unable to park this relentless ache

Boundaries, my soul cries
Enact self protection
Install dogs at the door.

(Image my own)

Collared and Distant

I side with mundanity
caution-led momentum
still, anxiety interjects

Every day presents beauty
wonder, and where am I?
Slinking away from some black dog –
collared and distant

Life offers me a bridge
and I shrink, ducking into
sheltered viewpoints
praying the moment
passes me by

No wonder the black dog
catches me, straining its leash
to sniff this trembling old woman
its handler oblivious to the
fear mounting in the room

I will project the spots of the past
into silent scenarios, and
brace myself as if riding a tiger –
unprepared and hanging on for life

Avoidance is a fool’s game
for life is challenge
and if I’m honest
it’s not the dark that quickens
but rather that which resides within
 
I am the black dog –
collared and distant
I am my spotted past
and I am, in essence
the spirit of the tiger

And I am the very shelter
that I seek
open-doored
and ever-present
for every weary passerby

My walls may be worn
my countenance aging
but I am not without purpose

I shall seek out bridges
and contain these nerves
and cross into the unknown
instinct and intuition intact

Leave anxiety,
collared and distant
behind.

(Image my own)

In Situ

Upgrading –
setting new standards
learning anew

Kin/ heritage
pursues me –
influence
and legacy

Timid concerning
the unspoken
the understated

Seduction courts
a response –
I am flush with possibility
basking in attention

But God is calling me home –
reminds me of mortality
humbles me in situ

I am already engaged
passion in the moment
dalliances redundant

(Self portrait created blind with acrylic paint and palette knife)

Relevance

She’s papering the walls
pondering former rooms
unmarked by her presence

Patterns alternate,
she thinks
then prays
will harmonize

She doesn’t need much –
a forever mantra  —

a bed, a chair for reading…

Contentment, she tells herself,
 the sufficiency of simplicity –

A side table, a lamp
a few drawers
 
A well-practiced diminishment
When did invisibility become her norm?

Sewing herself into the fabric of life
Always adapting to the flow

A stab of anger, or is it sorrow
These four walls her final stop

If she is to make a statement
raise her voice against conformity
the time is now

A slash of red, she decides
will rattle the monotony
render her relevant

At least this once.

(Sketch my own)

Silently, I Follow

Silently, I follow
novice heart absent

Who can maneuver
the breathless streams

attempt a spiritual viewpoint
while continuously overwhelmed?

Urgently in need of a breakthrough
I am done, outdated

Summer’s passage conceded
this soul requires triage

An experience of caring
that does not resemble a demand for more.

(Image my own)

Age and Obstacles

Sloth-like she shuffles
each stride an argument
against unwilling muscles,
ignores spasms, lips pursed
in concentration, advances

Cockeyed he totters,
step…hop…step, poker-hot
stabs punctuating his effort
moves swiftly as if to out run
pain, face set in determination

They are out of sync, oddball
awkward sightseers, obstacles
for the fast-moving able-bodies
that whir past unable to fathom
motivation in crooked spines.

The race here is against time,
propelled by insatiable thirst,
they forage for snippets worthy
of hoarding, squirrels readying
for winter’s harsh call, days

when minds still alert will hunger
despite bodies inert, they will
dine on memory, boast about
the daring, reminisce fondly
over adventures hard won.

(A portrait of aging, first published in 2017. Image my own)

Lines

Give me a map
and I will trace the lines
of where I have been

A timeline
will communicate
my raison d’être

Report cards
demonstrate the depth
of my conformity

Lines on my face
a testament
to personal efforts

Good girls colour in the lines
and I am no different
waxing orange and green

Wishing to create contours
differentiate self
from the compliance

Essence is fluid
and lines flimsy
and substance seeks
exposure and celebration

And try as I might
the orange of my soul
bleeds into blank spaces

and green of my nature
reaches across divisions
and I shall not succumb

to prescribed limits
and I invite you to do the same
colour with me outside the lines.

(Art my own)