Sunday, September 29, 2013

On Aging

photo by Mark Haley
courtesy of The Mag 188
*
 
I never thought my life
solitary, never wished
for anything more, until
 
gray appeared, one
strand at a time, wiry
springs a bird's nest
 
locking me within
the confines of my home,
and then I wanted
 
to go out and live my life
among people, celebrate
my remaining days. Instead,
 
I followed the footpath
to your shore, hoping
the horizon might not end.
 
*
 

29 comments:

Jae Rose said...

Finding grey and waking up..time certainly catches up with you..always good to try and out run it..

Brian Miller said...

amazing the life those first hints of grey will draw out of us...as we realize life wont go forever...though we can still hope...esp when we find that one we would love to walk the path with well over the horizon....cool piece laurie...

Susan said...

Cut those wires, make art out of them .... Your images get deeper than ever!

Maureen said...

Lovely.

undercaws.com said...

There is a lovely sadness in this piece.

Julie Jordan Scott said...

Your words took my breath away. Seriously. Such longing... so beautifully crafted (and with so much ease, at least it appears to me!)

THANK YOU!!

Liz Rice-Sosne said...

Oh I just love this!! So much!!!

Kathe W. said...

so darn thoughtful....finding those strands of gray and what words came from that discovery! Bravo!

Tess Kincaid said...

I know those gray stands well...don't you wish we knew then what we do now...

Steve E said...

Laurie, you describe so well...ME!

Locked..."within the confines of my home..."

then later (in life)

"hoping the horizon might not end"

Good WORK!

Dana Dampier said...

Point taken... I don't want to wake up one day and realize that I have not lived life to the fullest as I should have. I don't want to play catch up... thank you!

Berowne said...

Pleasingly engaging; well done.

J Cosmo Newbery said...

A beautiful wistfulness to this, Laurie.

kaykuala said...

I followed the footpath
to your shore, hoping
the horizon might not end

One sees so much hope in here. Like the positive ending. Nicely Laurie!

Hank

Stacy Lynn said...

I followed the footpath
to your shore, hoping
the horizon might not end.

stunning! the ocean being symbolic of a time never-ending. how magical!

stacy lynn mar
http://warningthestars.blogspot.com/

Sharon Bradshaw said...

A lovely poem, Laurie. I enjoyed reading it, thank you.

alan1704 said...

I followed the footpath - Lovely words and such wisdom. All we can do is follow the footpath to wherever it leads

Jinksy said...

Sometimes solitude is a means to an end, I think...

Ginny Brannan said...

No one should recluse themselves, nor ever be self-conscious about aging, as the say, better than the alternative! Every gray is well earned, but I refuse to go down without a fight!! I liked your use of metaphor in this, and the solitary feel, your words work well with the image. Nicely done.

Jerry E Beuterbaugh said...

Deeply moving. Be assured that I also long to see again what I took for granted far too often before.

Debi Swim said...

About a year ago I let my roots grow out. I refuse to color it ever again. Grey is so freeing. It says, I have lived and struggled and loved and conquered!

Kutamun said...

Seems there is no danger of the path ending for you, Laurie .... Thanks

Mary said...

I really think a person needs to celebrate every day of one's life. The graying means absolutely nothing; and there is still MUCH life and many more adventures ahead.

Lyn said...

I kept nodding yes to this..let's hope the horizon keeps moving! Art like yours makes it happen!

Karen S. said...

Ah yes, washing away gray is so the way in every way! A very moving magpie, indeed, it truly hits inside.

~T~ said...

Oh, should I rethink my happy hermitness? Lovely lines.

Sue said...

I am well into that graying process.

Great take on the prompt.

=)

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Ah those grey strands...

Lovely lovely words Laurie.

Anna :o]

Vandana Sharma said...

This is touching and filled with realisation as :greys" start appearing