Tuesday, February 22, 2011

"Pick up the Glass" (Meus Vicis idea)

While I do have my own writings, I have not posted them yet.  I have to find them in the mess that is upstairs, left from the passing of my Mom.  I have not finished going through the things I brought from "home".  Home that is no longer "home".  It is gone forever from my life.  I will never enter that space again except in my memory, where it lingers, haunts and consumes my being.  I am lost.  I am a wandering traveler, with no place to rest my weary bones.  I am searching for the place where I will feel I belong, where at last I will be able to feel my soul at peace.  It has been a long journey with so many pit stops and dead ends.  But, today I am going to "pick up my glass" (Meus Vicis idea) and try to take my "parched" soul out of the desert,  if only for a moment.  "We don't remember days.  We remember moments". (not sure of author, will have to look it up and post it later>)

I found this poem by someone else that I want to share:


by Ruth Williams
Sophie Lumen's Hand
This is the terrain of my body.
These are the planes of my body.
I have dents and folds of skin. I am spoken without and within.
The scars are like a grid.
Mapping out my travels, my pain, all the thoughtless things I did.
The latitude of leg bespeaks a childhood malady.
The tattoo on my arm, long-ago longitude of college folly.
Who knew you’d have to wear your life on your person as long as you lived?
I thought the years went through you, like a sieve.
You took what you could, then sloughed it off, a la roughage.
Figured it could all be left behind, like luggage.
I’ve come to regard my wrinkled, saggy self with great affection. Every step and stumble led me in a deeper direction.
This was a life well-lived.
This body, a temple, well-loved.
At the end of my life, at the end of the day,
I’ll know the trip was well worth the bumps along the way.

Ruth Williams is a Freelance Writer and Poet whose focus is on issues of interest to seniors, including health-care, life-style and self-improvement.

This is how I want to be able to think.  I want to love myself for who I am.  I want to live each day as if it it the last day of my life.  In the end, I want to be able to know that this journey was worth it and that the path I chose was the right one, the one that caused the least pain and tears to those I love.~~menancy

1 comment:

  1. Love the poem...this is great!