Sometimes when I look at myself
in the mirror
I can’t shake the image of
Monstro Elisasue.
Created out of neglect,
out of selfish greed of consumption.
My need sometimes overbearing
in the most inconvenient ways.
I think of my 20 year old legs:
the hamstrings, the back of the knee,
the calves shaped perfectly.
But now look at me,
43 and struggling to fit
into any semblance of my former self,
veiny ankles, patella collapsed inward…
unrecognizably wrinkly.
We must learn to grow
without expectation of clinging on
to the old shapes of ourselves.
We must be willing to
let the former selves go
lest they become a monkey on
our backs
bulging outward
in an eerie smile
as we lumber onward
toward an undetermined finish line.
April Ridge lives in the expansive hopes and dreams of melancholy rescue cats. She thrives on strong coffee, and lives for danger. In the midst of Indiana pines, she follows her heart out to the horizon of reality and hopes never to return to the misty sands of the nightmarish 9 to 5. April aspires to beat seasonal depression with a well-carved stick, and to one day experience the splendor of the Cucumber Magnolia tree in bloom.
No comments:
Post a Comment