If I let go of all the things I know,
if I toss from my heart what tugs at its’ walls,
if I take the chance to step on to the edge of my soul,
then will I be better or worse than I am.
Will the sun shine again as bright as before,
will I never again feel the anxiety within my mind or,
can I take a hold of all the scarred, ragged edges
and bring them back and sew them together again?
If I bend and pick up the pieces of me
If I reach and hold onto the sweetest of the memories,
If I sit and stare at the nothing I see in the vision of my soul,
then will color be able to return to the space I see with my eyes.
Will sorrow that pierces and gouges the heart,
be changed so that the spring returns to the soul
or will tomorrow only bring another spear
laced with grief that only I can feel its’ sting?
As I continue on my journey toward my twilight it is evident that I shall be carrying a few more questions that I can only answer. Each day I realize that there isn’t any one else in the world that can tell me how I am to do the things I am to do, understand how and when the haze of my world will return to its normal clarity and it is only I who can can know when my tomorrow will feel like it has brought the new spring to my life.
For now I continue to muddle with in the sludge under the white snow that occasionally lets me slip and fall. It is the grayness of the sky that matches what my eyes see as I sit, sometimes too long, staring off into the corner of my bedroom; or at times I fall asleep on the chaise only to awaken and return to the sight of that same corner of nothing.
I question also, when will the night begin to pass without numerous times of awakening to see just how much longer I need to stay there. Eventually I arise before dawn and trip quietly down the stairs so that I don’t awaken M. or the cat, Souse. It is then, once again in the appalling quietude of our house I sit in that corner of the kitchen that I have always sat in before the bright monitor of the computer to think of what next could lessen the impact of these days on my soul.
And then suddenly, I realize I have passed from the time of pensive thought into flipping url’s like Blueberry Pancakes on a sizzling hot grill and as the pancakes are stacked they leave no room between. As I arise from the computer I know the day lies ahead to be experienced mostly with agitation even more than the Kenmore washer produces to wash my clothes. And I seem to follow the same cycling. First there is the agitation, then the rinsing and calming of my mind only to plunge forward into a spinning haze.
I think of all this newness of experiences each day and wonder is it all that bad and will I be able to make it through it and look backward and know that even in my mature years I can grow and learn all there is that life has to offer. I know for now I wonder why there needs to be lessons like I am within, but I think that somewhere in the motion of living there is a plan for me and I must follow this relentless path to find greater peace.
As I turn each new corner I find myself a little closer to my crepuscular years. With each step I must take now I realize it can only prepare me for the new years ahead of me. To gain wisdom through thoughts, by the anguish created by death and by recording my collective new beliefs then it is an acceptable path that I take.