harbors of time
on fear we are
fused as one
to twig beauty
as centuries brittle
our bones
through fading eyes
clarity is ferried on
memories cached in
harbors of time
and into sunset
we shield our faces
as temptress light
teases horizons
just beyond our
grasp.
Poem © 2010 by R. Burnett Baker
Photo © 2008 by R. Burnett Baker
Photo taken by R.Baker along the Hudson River just north of the George Washington Bridge, 2008.
Rick,
ReplyDeleteThat first stanza has real economy, a punch to it!
The idea of nagging fear of dissolution, the not immediately apparent disintegration of what looks on the surface as holding and holding well.
But the strength in the idea is the concision of the words, most in monosyllables potent on one another.
And "twig beauty" !!!
Trulyfool
rick when father flies away, the door opens to a sense of self as older. i have found that. it's comforting and good. it's a place i'm good with because old can be a beginning place for tremendous goodness. steven
ReplyDeleteTF: In my case, you're probably correct: The surface belies what I know and feel to be the painful truth! In my mind, 25. In my "not immediately apparent disintegration", 57. Ouch!
ReplyDeleteSteven: I will welcome that place you have found. Not sure I'm there yet. But I appreciate your serenity and wonderment of life. It's apparent through your writing, art, and words of encouragement.
Rick
thoughtful as usual
ReplyDeleteI think Steven has discovered the secret
old can be a beginning place..i so like that
But who defines old?
If you feel 25...go for it
I rather like horizons..there is excitement there
anticipation
wonder
Suz, I believe Steven has embraced life, and "later" life earlier than some of us. It will serve him and those he touches well. I am starting to sense some comfort in this thing called late middle age, and I'm sure there is much joy in the relinquishing of all that drive and ambition that gives us angst during our younger years. Not that we can't have dive and ambition as we age, but I think it's much more focused, and given more purpose in our later years.
ReplyDeleteThat focus, to Steven's point, is in that "beginning place for tremendous goodness."
I love twig beauty. My dear 93 year old grandfather reminded me so much of a lovely twig just before his death.
ReplyDeletemy grandma lived to 83.
ReplyDeletelovely thoughts on aging..
beautiful poetry.
Greetings!
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