Friday Poem: Afrayed

IMG_7439 (Large)Sixty is a daunting number for a birthday – I’m officially a senior now. I’m sure it’s worse for my mother , having a child so old. I remember her telling me, maybe twenty years ago (she was nineteen when I was born), that the older she got, the older her idea of old was. To me it just seems to be nonsensical that I am this old – I think most older people feel that at least some of the time. It’s when I see a recent photo of, say, Henry Rollins, who is a few years younger than me, and he looks so darned old …or my own kids grey hairs…well, that’s when I feel ancient…Sorry, Hank!IMG_7478 (Large)

 

I see my grand daughters
Vibrating with life.
I see the grey
In my children’s hair.

I think maybe I have
Another thirty years.
Thirty years of mitochondria
Powering down,
And fraying telomeres…

So much to do
And that’s a long time,
But maybe not.

Will I ever get to live
In Olympia,
A year, a week, a month?
Am I too old for dreams?

You can see from the size of Juniper that the photo of my mum,me, Zoe and Juni was taken a while ago. She’s not wearing lipstick in the recent photo – she’d just finished a raspberry sorbet in Halls Gap. My specs and ring are evidence that I haven’t given up just yet, and Dad’s old Commer – well, we are around the same age, and I think I’m generally holding up better than the truck!

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3 thoughts on “Friday Poem: Afrayed

  1. Helloooo! That’s a familiar looking face! Does your mother lurk about the streets of Castlemaine? Field naturalist and artist? As you reflect on being a grandmother, what are your mother’s feelings about being a great grand mother? I suspect being a great grandmother gives a person a certain status and all kinds of bragging rights.

    Liked by 1 person

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