October 30, 2017 at 2:19 pm Leave a comment


no, i really don’t
feel old. the years
have merely slipped away.
to youth’s eyes, i know, i’m only
an old woman, beyond desire,
weathered like some limb
or dusty brick; youth
is short and years
are hard.

and no, really,
i would not untrace years’
markings from face and body. these
are honorable scars. time
levels; life erects.
(i still stand erect)

these years have merely
been years, their shape
remembered my making,
my name
writ large in every action.
each step goes only
toward darkness
or the light, and all steps must
form a path.

grown old and somewhat
withered, i still
am two, fifteen, and thirty…
a multitude with one
face, one voice, one body.

and let there be no
quiet pity.
years are merely


Written when I was…15.

I had vanishingly little resemblance to my peers in my teenage years.

Entry filed under: Ancient Poetry, poetry, voices. Tags: , .

The Final and Absolute TRUTH A Brief Note and a Poem

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