The Fine Art of Aging

Some days these fingers ache when holding my writing lead
or perhaps it’s my soul keening, wallowing in woe,
How much more must a heart spill with words in black repose
Does not your fingers bleed when grasping too tight the memory of the thorny rose?

Some days these legs falter when I first rise from bed,
with joints stiff and old, cold misery in tainted dawn
remembering lost days of fresh bloom, I mourn
Did I not see my blessings, for my youth was forlorn?

Some days this heart of mine skips a beat with dread
as I gaze upon my weathered face with another line
I remember the smoothness of my skin so sublime
Why didn’t I care more, knowing it must endure for life?

Yet, here in this moment of time, I thrive with my aches, pains, and regrets
for I am grateful and blessed, I can still see with my eyes, and take a breath.

©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg

47 Comments on “The Fine Art of Aging

    • Thanks Björn. Indeed they are. In spite of my words, I embrace growing older, but I
      enjoy exploring if I didn’t. I once worked with someone who agonized over getting older and I decided then and there, it’s happening like it or not- why not embrace it?

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Why not embrace it indeed. My hair has gone white from root to end, seven years ago.I am still without wringkles but oh, the arthritis in my hands as I hit the keyboard. I like your last couplet. There is still hope!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh I feel this deeply 😥 especially; “How much more must a heart spill with words in black repose.” Beautifully poignant 💕

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Like Toni, arthritis plagues my hands and knees, but struggling to write in longhand, then typing limbers up the lock points and completes the joy, the task of writing, composing, letting loose the dogs of poetry.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Bless you for posting this poem which i am sure speaks to many of us–both the pause and then the knowledge of being alive and therefore blessed. Beautifully done.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I can so relate to this. I am learning to embrace these wrinkles and scars but will confess that every now and again I wonder how much those laser treatments cost. But then, realizing how I’ve had significant surgeries just to be able to live, it seems almost offensive to think of elective surgery. This is so beautifully expressed in your poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I love this line…
    Does not your fingers bleed when grasping too tight the memory of the thorny rose?
    Yes, you are right… everyday above ground and breathing is a good day!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. None of us know what the future holds, not even in youth. However, as the years pass there is less future and more living the moment. Perhaps that is the lesson. If we can do that in a healthy body we are indeed fortunate but however we do it, it is worth the doing.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Lovely poem of gratitude Linda… :-). The growing old doen’t bother me, but the failing health is kickin’ my butt… :-/

    Liked by 1 person

  9. The thing about life is that no matter how experienced we are, we are all beginners, each new phase brings challenges we might have thought we understand, but in truth have not lived through. The antithesis of melancholy and hope in this poem is perfectly paced and resonates with a beautifully persistent rhyme scheme, like growing old, a beautifully puzzle. I agree it is best to embrace each phase, but one can reflect profitably that youth is wasted on the young. That time of year thou dost in me behold…

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Yes, I can relate to this. If I only knew then, what I know now. With that said, I’m a healthy 73 year old that still likes to be funky, dance, and have fun.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: