On Old Age

Joan Miró  pinterest.com

Joan Miró

I carry
the weight of years
around with me continually
The rucksack I cannot remove
In each compartment some
relic of the journey
in hearts

I cannot
remember names
but when not concentrating
Then in the stillness of the dark
they leap from my memory
out of their abyss
like stars

I cannot
forget their touch
which like an ember singed
Was it then I knew I was alive?
I knew the company angels
who were unaware
of glory

I carry
the weight of years
around with me continually
Like water in the camel’s back
the past for me is not heavy
It sustains me like
a womb

“You would like to hear how it is in old age?
Certainly, not much is known about that country
Till we land there ourselves, with no right to return.” ~ Czeslaw Milosz


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
This entry was posted in free verse, poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to On Old Age

  1. you say it so well…


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