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Monday, 05 December 2011

Old Road

By Monica Devine who blogs at Between Two Rivers

It was not long ago I wore
my hair in braids
like twisted rivers falling softly over my shoulders,
or smooth vines held in place with green satin ribbons.

No longer a child, I’m too old to wear braids now
too old to wear above-the-knee-wrap-around-silk-skirts and
French-cut-bathing-suits, or
form-fitted-knit-dresses that reveal every imperfect curve.

The young ones no longer look me in the eye or hip
perhaps the swing is gone, they see no use? though
I pay my taxes faithfully-feed-the-chickadees that flock the trees,
rub away enduring dust
cook a meal they hastily consume then with a tart shove, push themselves
away from the table.

They don’t see me walking the old dirt road
or the deep lines of my forehead covered in a hat made of spun llama
soft and supple as new lamb
To them life is a horse race.
my mother used to say wear your hair piled up high,
she liked it that way
but no, I’ll wear braids again at the end of the road when
the holy-bound dream is to die-young-of-old-age.

Old Road poem

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Instructions for submitting are here.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


I am so happy to discover your exquisite poetry and photos here.One more to add to my morning reading list, along with ESP and Ronni's blog! Thank you for them.

What a nice thought--"to die young of old age."

Michigan Grandma

Yes, I enjoyed your poem,too, especially the last line...

As MG said,"Nice thought."

Nice to see we all hate the "invisible thing," nice to know not alone in that..and love to think of "dying young of old age." Most glorious thing is we all write as ageless beings, except for the years of knowledge and experience..

Isn't it nice that the "horse race" is over? Procrastination is really fun! I want to leave some unfinished messes for those to follow, and would like to be a little bird watching.

Beautifully written.

Thank you for your kind comments. There is a fascination observing this aging process take place. Frankly, I struggle with my future end-time, with the desire to be conscious and accepting rather than fearful and resisting. Which opens up the topic of religion/beliefs. My god is Nature. I've been unable or maybe unwilling to force a belief of life after death. Why is that necessary? Why not just fold back into the earth?

Lovely poem. Appreciate your after comments too. I've been thinking a lot about what religion means to me lately.

Do you mean llama?

Loved your poem. It reminded me of a visit I recently made to a Doctor's office. He asked how I was and I said I was dying (of pain. He looked straight at me and said "I am too". He's right of course.

Ack! Thanks, Estelle, for the correction.

Sounds like you have a good doctor, Mary. To confirm the truth rather than brush it away, or pretend like it doesn't exist. Like grass, people die away...

What a wonderful, evocative drawing and picture you gave us along with such truthful words. Thanks so much.

Yes, it's nice the racehorse is over, Joanne. There's nothing better than un- unhurried day.
Thank you for your comment, Johna. Now that I'm retired from the workforce, I can spend my time writing and making art. pure enjoyment!

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