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To my Older Self
by Johanna MayI always wonder what creature you’ll be,
burdened with this greedy beastling
that acquires memories more than she knows
how to keep them.
Your youth does not know how to wear her heart.
This vessel belongs to you.
You won’t take for granted a single beat
of its music.
Will you answer back, ‘In the winter of us; that
which pulses, life, is but a factory of these memories
that produces from a span of years:
a single smile or tear.’
I do not know how to wear your eyes
and your smile, and your sorrows…
and I am hoping all these ungainly things
become beautiful someday
worn by you. 01/12/2013 Posted on 01/12/2013
Copyright © 2024 Johanna May
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 01/13/13 at 01:17 AM I should have written when I was 19. Because age does not know any better how to wear a heart. It never knows how the wear the right clothes nor how to say the right words. Mostly because those “right” things never exist. So we take our best shot at it and keep our fingers crossed however many times they are walked upon. But we take in all we can, absorb it, smell it, taste, until everyone says we are crazy and they right. But life is crazy! Watch TV if you can stand it. Watch people drive if you dare. Take it all in and make your world what you would of it. If you are fortunate some one, maybe more, will be watching and maybe someone will touch you or visa versa and you will discover love for a day, or a night, or maybe just an hour. Take it and hold tight for it may be all you ever get and even then someone might try to take it from you. But I ramble which we do as we age….. |
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