So long ago-
indeed many fogs of memory away–
I lay in tallish grass
in the high summer and silence
always with my books
and read in the hot sun
until bubbles of sweat swarmed
with the whiny mosquitoes
and drove me into the confusion
of Other People inside houses.

They never knew me–
how jarring their talk
punching me out of the wordworld
I loved to swim long strokes in
every day linked to every other
in a single stream of sentences
of people more real each day
than any who broke into my world
where I could be real, too,
not the silent thing they said I was.

Today swallows up yesterdays
like the horizon ate the sun
in those long hours of freedom
stolen from the jumble of Not and Do
a nest of thorns for snakes to curl in
that framed the hours between dawn and dusk
that stole me from myself each evening
until I became empty as this hand is now
as a false lover’s kiss at dawn
no longer hearing my own voice.

Now comes early old age-
this return to silence and freedom
tastes like strawberries red all through
sounds like the rush and heave of the ocean
smells like good lavender and rosemary
growing side by side in my garden
where I rest for hours when I may
write my own story now and forever
blessed by love’s long patronage
to return to who I should always have been.


About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
This entry was posted in Dogs, Birds and Other Joys, Free verse, joy, love, Patience, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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