Our bodies no longer carry children
They carry disease
dysfunction
No second glances on the street
nor
second looks in the doctor's office
We learn to become
our own admirers
our own detectives
The young ones are praised
for beauty
for bearing children
We are reviled
for wrinkles
for bearing scars
and pain
Our time has come and gone
It is unseemly to demand more
Expected to deteriorate
gracefully
and if we must die-
to die quietly,
smiling.
6 comments:
i hope that i age gracefully...i think the wrinkles tend to add texture personally but...i will try to give the younguns a run for their money as long as i can...smiles.
I must admit I give younger men more second looks than I do those of my own generation - but do still give second looks to men of similar age to me...
Anna :o]
Oh... let's all agree to rage (kick and scream) against the dying of the light.
Those lines and wrinkles and scars are badges of honor, love. Wear them proudly.
i'm not going quietly! i'll be kicking and screaming all the way! {smile}
♥
I view the entire aging thing as completely hilarious. I crack everyone up without even intending to, and then my cackle is the loudest. Hee hee. Inside, I still feel young. I am constantly confused at finding myself in this older body:)Enjoyed your poem!
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