Oldage

I wrote this when I was 13, now I am 37 and just want to capture glimpses of my old self somewhere. So please be kind if you somehow stumble upon this and read it too…I saw both sets of my grandparents suffer when they were old. Not one of their 6 children showed up to take care of them in the way they should have been taken care of. This was my 13 year old grieving with them.

They say,

“I have become old”

A feeling so cold

Years and years of living

What their hearts are of filling?

Dead and dull

Their lives are so lull

Are they alive or dead?

They cry for every piece of bread

Its a curse they say

For long life if we pray

We have played our roles

Now dry are our souls

We say we are young

But are we qualified for that one

Keep your hands on your heart

Accept this on your part

So becoming old is not

Passing by years but

The wrinkling of your soul

The shrinking of the feelings in your heart

Their eyes so eager

To find support with

A heart little bigger

They wait and wait

Till they die, its their trait

At last an echo comes

From the dead man’s ash

Help us, understand us,

We are not trash

We are not trash

We are not trash

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