Growing Old Gracelessly

The signs of physical decay don't come
As great surprises. Mirrors show the
Wrinkled, drying face, the rheumy eyes,
The flaccid skin. The spirit feels itself
Defeated after work. It's hard to walk.
One shoulder or the other aches. One
Cannot summon energy to plod out
To the curb to get the paper and the mail,
But what hurts worst is what's unseen:
The steady diminution of emotion.
Things just cease to matter. Joy dries
Up. It disappears, and even sorrow
Seems to be diluted. Nothing's all
That sad. Everything, anticipated,
Fully known before it happens,
Hasn't any resonance. The ancient
Mariner returns to port, and all is as
He'd seen it, dull, expected, unaffecting.
He dies as he lives, becoming neither
Caterpillar, nor the butterfly. He's
The useless chrysalis, a cloven hulk
Stuck to a tree, it's cargo going on
With life as it, subjected to the
Elements, decays.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 89 times
Written on 2017-09-16 at 01:54

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