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Age

She used to think age was an abstract noun
Then I told her she was wrong
I told her you could see the years set in
You can see hands begin to tremble
Minds begin to shake.
The blank never filled.

I told her about the shuddering sighs
And the memory melding identities together
I become my aunt.
I told her about the moments when 
He couldn't remember what month it was
Or he forgot my dog’s name.

And when I told her about the days 
That were good, 
Like when he told me about his childhood
And he knew his old address,
She seemed to be looking past me,
Focusing on the present.

And I spoke of the days
Oceans dripped off my cheeks
Because I could tell he knew
He knew his body was his cage 
He knew he wasn’t himself anymore
Because he was buried too deep to find.

And when I looked up from my sorrow
I saw a girl
A girl with red eyes and 
Mascara tracks down her nose,
Shattered and broken
In front of a mirror.

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Darren White

Date: 5/1/2017 12:19:00 AM

Oh Iris, Iris, you can write, you have talent! This poem is so tender, sad and beautiful. If I have to choose one stanza, it would be this one:"And I spoke of the days Oceans dripped off my cheeks Because I could tell he knew He knew his body was his cage He knew he wasn’t himself anymore Because he was buried too deep to find."..... But that said, the final stanza is excruciatingly beautiful and sad.... Fantastic write.

Iris Blade
Date: 5/1/2017 10:32:00 AM

Thank you so much. This was a very difficult poem for me to write as it is true. My grandfather has good days and bad days and days where he can't remember my name. He's been there for me my whole life and it's really sad to see the end of his. I wrote this poem to express some of that and by the end I was in tears. Thank you so much for reading my poem.