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| Guatemalan Worry Dolls |
“To thine own self be true,”
I quote Shakespeare
when leaving older folks at home
again—
their homes—as I must go to mine.
Again.
The rhythm is catchy, this going
and
coming, this aging and
knowing “better
this than the alternative,” as
Dad says.
And death will come in time, no
denying
mortality these days. As I smooth
my
own wrinkles, I try to admire
them.
“They give your face some
character” someone
said—but I don’t remember who—uh
oh—
memory is going, too! Take
pictures!
Many many photos cut open my
tree rings, thickened with
tricycles and friends,
thinned with divorces and abandoned
causes.
Or is it
opposite? Could striving and
failing be richer than success and
smiles?
I walk among the maples trees and
ask.
My legs feel rubbery, but I push
on
over stone fences and into the
pines.
We are silent questioners
together.
Praying
again? Yes. Should I have stayed?
I walk and write and pray as my
rings change,
and my branches grow into
brittleness.
Laughter inside, my heart
delights to feel
the worry that I’ve carried all my
life.
No point in arguing, I
say. Welcome.
My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
Please respect my copyright.
© 2018 Susan L. Chast
How beautiful these reflections and musings are Susan. I am sure many of your readers will echo the sentiments that you talk about. There is nothing better to walk in the forest among the trees or alone on beach with surf rushing in to feel that all will be well.
ReplyDeleteMany many photos cut open my
ReplyDeletetree rings... what a gem of a line.
And love the close... it is what it is in the end, no sense arguing!!!
Wow those are sturdy legs. keep on going.
ReplyDelete"My legs feel rubbery, but I push on
over stone fences and into the pines.
We are silent questioners together."
Happy Wednesday Susan
much love...
There is great wisdom in welcoming the life that is, rather than pining for the life that might have been.
ReplyDelete“better / this than the alternative,” ...I feel every word of it. Sooo love the images of rings changing and branches growing into brittleness and of course the closing lines.
ReplyDelete"Could striving and
ReplyDeletefailing be richer than success and smiles?"
I wonder - this is so characteristic of a life lived in its actuality and all being accepted in a bid to be one with it. This is such a charming poem - such musing makes the idea of growing older by the day seem just fine. I like the dictums and the perspective of course, but the things that I love the most are the natural rhythm and the craftsmanship with those breaks and italicized observations.
-HA
Accepting all of who we are is a wonderful and powerful thing Susan. I can relate to the sentiments you have shared deeply.
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteLong ago in a book, title long gone from my thought banks, I read that to have a happy life one must first learn to love one's self. Self-acceptance is a magical thing, and you have expressed it well.
I like the rhythm of your worry in the poem, reading it is like turning a stone in my hand and it leaves me more settled that before.
ReplyDeleteI so resonate with this poem...I have carried worry all my life too, well-justified. So difficult to juggle the demands of aging parents and one's own, small self. It is good to take time to replenish, before you go back again. I especially love "I walk and write and pray as my rings change/ and my branches grow into brittleness." Oh, yes. In my case, the constant worry is a daughter with a mental illness, now in crisis. I walk on the beach, in order to be there for all the rest. And the over-riding reach of it - we cant control the outcome. "We are silent questioners together."
ReplyDeleteI so loved this beautiful poem with these wise reflections
ReplyDeleteand some stunning lines like
"Many many photos cut open my
tree rings, thickened with tricycles and friends..."
"My legs feel rubbery, but I push on
over stone fences and into the pines.
We are silent questioners together."
I think we all push on even when we are too tired or the legs feel rubbery. It is a sign of resilience the ability to move on through the stages of life and to find a place of comfort in who we are, at least that is how I see it.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful poem...so magically expressed...loved this so much<3
ReplyDeleteAll you can do is pray and give thanks for your daily abundant gifts You parents are fortunate to have you and you them. This is a wonderful giftthat they are bot still with you. Keep pushing those rubbery legs over the stone fences and enjoy every minute of it:)
ReplyDeleteI love that you are full of questions, questions open doors, while answers close them. Keep asking questions...and who is this person under the wrinkles? Whose hair is liquid silver? Have you noticed as we grow older, we are given permission?
ReplyDeleteDeep reflections in this, and the questioning continues. Maybe the maples carry the answer.
ReplyDeleteI love that you see yourself as a tree, Susan, and recognised myself in the lines:
ReplyDelete'Many many photos cut open my
tree rings, thickened with tricycles and friends,
thinned with divorces and abandoned causes.'
I used to ask people, "Why are you worrying? If things are going to go wrong, they are going to wrong anyway--so you just wasted a bunch of time that you could've enjoyed until you actually had to worry. And if things actually go well, then you still wasted a bunch of time you could've used to do something yummy."
ReplyDeleteThen I gained some more vintage(hood) and realized that for some souls, worries can be extremely sticky. Even when they try to kick them away, the worries find ways to cling around.
These days, I just tell my Piano Man, "I wish I could bottle my nature-given don't-give-two-hoots-until-I-have-to superpower, so that I can share it." I've yet to manage it. But when I do, Mistress Worries and I will dance until she drops.
I would buy some of your elixir!
ReplyDelete