Poem: On Growing Old

The rutted road


unfamiliar paths

carved by years

The rolling tracks of scraping tears

and curving twist of mirth’s sharp shape

A body once

so ripe and round

now clinging close

decaying dark

in parts unseen

Sluggish now to greet the day

but still its beauty


For each step sacred

the more

and more

we take




9 thoughts on “Poem: On Growing Old

  1. A time of transition is upon us. Everyday I look in the mirror I see the crone taking shape. She is waiting around the corner. Gentle and sweet are her whispers, I hope….

  2. Sometimes I’m not sure. Sometimes I see stuff that isn’t so sweet. Maybe that’s why some of the stories of old women are of hags and such, as we learn to use our real voices when we get older. And some of things we say aren’t always so kind or perfect. But we carry inside of us all this crap for so long and it is finally bursting to come free…. and I want to be free, finally. Just to be me and not anyone else’s.

  3. Aside this illness which isn’t age related, otherwise I don’t really feel older or if I do I’d rather than the fearful unknown of youth but sometimes sadness makes us feel old before our time. I wish you joy because that makes us feel good at any age 💓

  4. You are so right dear friend. Any negative emotions can age and drain us: frustration and anxiety…. I have just been working on patience. Even waiting can be a weight. I try hard to be up, but we can’t always force it. I’ve been working lately, sometimes more than I want, in a school with very young kids. Some days it’s uplifting, others tiring…..

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