Peace in Late Life
Ah, the winter solstice.
It’s time to start
bringing light
to the darkness.
My summer did not
change me, leaves are falling now.
winter’s close behind.
When old age arrives,
every body’s in the same boat.
Not so our hearts.
Breathing in,
I see I’m living in Grace.
Breathing out,
I am grateful.
Every day, I am
invited to give and forgive.
I like this.
Can’t see what’s next,
but I’m eager to trade
history for mystery.
Reminiscing
Living between two eternities,
we always return
to where it began
I mean, nobody really cares
what your major was,
what you used to do,
who you used to be,
what your title was.
I fully grasp the desire,
even the burning fire,
to return to how it used to be,
the good old days, but…
Everything is temporary.
It’s helpful to know that,
to let that be enough.
What new opportunities await my yes?
What more do I have to offer?
Appreciating the past, yes, but also
engaging out,
reflecting in,
enjoying the now.
Welcoming newness.
Creating willingness.
Being grateful for everyone.
Today is so very special.
New Beginnings always are.
There is so much to be joyful about,
and, satisfied, we might capture
bits of today’s breezy brilliance,
enlivened by the simple pleasure of it all.
We can check our pulse, appreciate our heart,
check our mirror, give it a thankful smile,
grateful for this good day, today.
I do not make resolutions
in January anymore.
No point, I’d just ignore them,
quickly, that’s for sure.
Instead I pick a word,
to remind me what to see,
one word, commonly heard,
nudging how to act, who to be.
It started with Gratitude,
which truly improved my attitude.
What followed was Generosity,
reducing my pomposity.
The third year was Compassion,
quite helpful in its fashion.
One year it was Empathy,
oh what wonders I did see.
As New Year’s Day draws near,
what will I choose this year?
Peace? Faith?
Grace? Repose?
I think no, not this year,
it will be none of those.
I’ll continue to aim for civility,
stability in my increased fragility,
Improving upon 2021’s Humility.
That was last year’s aim,
my 2021 plan,
and the Universe supported me,
a I worked to be a more humble man.
For 2022, I will be unsparing
in my plan to do more sharing,
looking everyone in the eye,
paying full attention without glaring,
to whatever weight they’re bearing,
doing my best to be more Caring.
It’s Sunday morning again, once more,
time to open my spiritual center door,
no longer driving to a physical space,
making it work at home, my perfect place.
Struggle and strife are left at the door,
I’m centered in peace and love and much more,
choosing my service with each little tap,
finding wisdom and joy with my pad on my lap.
I do miss the feelings the sanctuary brings,
the smiles, the hugs, the community things,
but until the world heals at some future date,
it will be my home where I pray and meditate.
This is a poem I have been writing for about ten years, ever editing, usually updating, sometimes adding a new line or stanza, always reflecting my experience of the Christmas spirit.
Blue Mirror (an update)
She asked about the blue mirror we
had packed and moved a few times
but never used for anything,
so I told her the story of how,
from the time I was four or five,
my mother would put it on
the four by five cedar chest we used
as an end table, but
at Christmas time, we'd
put fake snow and little people on it
to make a festive scene.
I'm 77 now, and through the years,
a lot of stuff has disappeared, like
lamps and photos and baseball cards.
People, too.
I've lost dogs and cats, some car keys,
the home I grew up in,
even my mother,
who died suddenly one September,
and we didn't have Christmas
after that for a long time,
what with sadness,
and later, for me, war.
I never lost that blue mirror, though.
Then I met her, and I had very little stuff,
but I had her, and that was more than enough.
Her family was big on Christmas,
so after we returned from our December honeymoon,
we went to her growing-up home,
watched her baby sister
put the ornaments on their tree,
the round ones made with
a glitter and a glue stick,
the ones with everybody's names on them,
and we were the last ones to go up,
smack dab in the center front,
apparently a place of honor,
to much oohing, ahing and smiling.
My dad was there,
our first Christmas in forever.
It was cold, really cold, but
our hearts melted.
So, the blue mirror, remember? After
we moved to a town with lots of folks,
one where we could have visitors, we
started to decorate excessively. Too much
was still not enough, with wreaths and
themed trees and garland and such. she
said we should bring out the blue mirror and
make a scene, so we went looking for
fake snow and little trees and people.
Then Department 56 happened,
and a train set happened,
and more Department 56 happened,
and I built display tables and drilled holes
and did dangerous, overloaded wiring
and it was big and grand and good,
and all of our friends loved it,
and more Department 56 happened,
and a storage locker to hold it all happened.
I think I mentioned that I'm 77 now.
Those boxes and tables got heavier,
that wiring got more painful to connect.
We’ve lost a few more people,
there's this talk about voluntary simplicity.
Still have that blue mirror, though.
We thought we’d soon start a new tradition,
borrow from the past, bring out the older,
garage sale the newer.
But, then, like dancing lessons from God,
our crazy old world demanded even more simplicity.
So, what to do?
Krinkles accessories,
all the Santa ornaments,
and the clowns,
and the reindeer,
and the snowmen,
and the angels,
and...oh, what the heck,
we can’t just sell them on Ebay,
even as the people stopped stopping by.
Well, we found our Christmas spirit,
donated much to charities hurt by the plague,
and they sold them to support their good works,
gave them to the children in their lives.
Then it occurred that young families
might start their own traditions,
find the spirit of
their own blue mirror,
so off went much of the remainder.
Just down the street though,
so we can visit and see their joy.
The mom wants to pay us for our generosity,
but we’ll have none of that.
We’ve already been paid,
by the thoughts of children and their imaginations.
After all, we kept the blue mirror,
the one in the closet,
and the one in our hearts.
Anniversar-knee
‘‘Twas merely a year ago,
COVID intruding on
our 50th anniversary,
oh no, what can we do,
how can this be?
What to do instead?
But then she and Kaiser said,
it’s time and there’s room,
(no, not on Zoom).
The surgeon is ready,
and her hands are steady,
so come in for a day,
and go home that night,
yes, you really may,
it’ll be quite all right.
She went in the next morning,
her excitement aborning,
by five we left there,
home to a friend’s wheelchair.
Home therapy at first,
and for drugs, well,
not much of a thirst.
Later, in for p.t.,
where she performed impressively.
Throughout all 2021,
she’s been the one,
doing what was needed,
rehab directions she heeded.
So it’s now been a year,
and we should be of good cheer.
It’s clear she,
and her knee,
are the best, Number One,
as we plan anniversary 51.
I must stop now,
before it’s too late,
only one first anniversar-knee, wow,
mustn’t go past this date.
So as I close I’ll just say,
nicely done, hip hip hurray!
One Can Dream
I so want this to be
our Christmas Song,
Inviting all ye faithful,
on this, oh holy night.
Praying you hear what I hear,
that it’s possible to bring
joy to the world,
and rest at last to merry gentlemen
(and gentlewomen).
Santa baby,
all I want for Christmas
is a truly silent night,
no artillery drummer boy
simply angels we have heard on high,
singing Christmas is the time
to say I love you.
Let us rock around the Christmas tree.
Let us tell it on the mountain…
…Happy Xmas (war is over).
Praise all that is holy,
let this be our Christmas Song.
