Voices

 I have been pondering this poem for a few years. Certainly some of society's collective views on aging have changed as we continue to live longer lives. Yet, I still hear people dismissing themselves and others as old. I say dismissing because the perceived arrival at the sacred time of old age is announced not with gratitude or a sense of accomplishment, but rather defeat. While it is true that sometimes we can't do what we used to, that does not mean there is not more we can do, including falling in love as we read about in this poem. 

I also rankle when I hear people referring to an elder as cute. Surely living a long life full of challenges, joys, disappointments, and accomplishments is the journey of a hero (or shero as a friend of mine says).  Frankly, I think even the very young are living heroic lives as they learn their way through this world.  

I hear the voices of the children in this poem as our internalized voices that try to convince us that we are anything but beloved. The poet, Anna Swir (Świrszczyńska), was born in Warsaw, Poland in 1909, and served as a military nurse during WWII.  I think she surely lived a heroic life. She died in 1984.   

    

The Greatest Love  

   

She is sixty. She lives 

the greatest love of her life.  

  

She walks, arm-in-arm with her dear one, 

her hair streams in the wind. 

Her dear one says: 

"You have hair like pearls."

  

Her children say: 

"Old fool."

     

image:  San Leandro, July 2023. I have enjoyed watching the various stages of the neighborhood artichokes.

My voice continues to heal. Blessed be. I pray that all our inner voices continue to heal as well.