Endurance and fragmented shards — old friends

© 2016 Peter Free

 

16 November 2016

 

 

Endurance and fragmented shards

 

I am losing most of myself to age, it seems. The only thing I still carry are old friends.

 

Most of these are not even those whom I was closest to at the time we met. Yet they endured. The others not. Our smallish boat is fermented from transformed mundaneness.

 

We have become more open over time. Less afraid of revealing aspects of self. Our sentences are shorter. Aware that exit is unpredictably located and probably soon.

 

In Age's waterfall goings — are Love's reiterated redemptions. Bloom and wilt entwined. Joy and pain the same.

 

In the breathing space between afflictions, we cultivate heart garden. Without naming the process aloud. What is holy cannot be spoken.

 

I look seaward to waves. Upward to wind.  Bare trees beckon winter. Red berries on the yew. Blazing color in loss and departure conscious friends.