Wednesday, September 01, 2004
The curse of growing old
She does nothing but sleep, her only solace
from an empty world devoid
of ambitions. Just surprised to survive
and see another day.
Outliving her husband,
She witnessed her children die,
suffered the pangs of their anguish
as they cried for help like unfed infants
pleading, gasping for milk.
She’s in a state of stupor,
a rock beneath a rushing river,
oblivious to the strength of its onrush or passing currents.
Passive, she accepts whatever floats her way.
Had she been in her prime, she would’ve question the universe.
Why couldn’t it follow the natural
scheme of things… that the first one in should be
the first one out.
As if to console her,
I touch her hands, hoping--
But as it is, blank stare passes through the most opaque things
before her eyes...like me.
She looks not at my apparently transparent face
but at the clouds.
She returns to her youth, calls out her friends
by their first names... smiles and plays with them again.
She closes her eyes