This thing called life, passion, feelings or sexuality belongs to us, men and women of all ages.
We still see things we shouldn’t see –
We still feel things we shouldn’t feel-
We still hear things we shouldn’t hear-
We still taste grief, joy, fear,
In a world that vibrates
Through all of my senses.
We are not dead yet.
Definition
Do not define me by age.
I am not Roosevelt, Truman,
Eisenhower, or JFK.
Do not define me by blue veins
bulging out on my spidery arms,
my gobbler, once a Hepburn, Audrey.
Do not define me by Rorschach,
On skin brushed with indelible ink.
A Pollock on the wall of MOMA.
Do not define me by a new dance step
Shuffling, shuffling –
My heels replaced by clogs.
I am
a rabbit out of a hat,
a three ring circus without net,
A whodunit without clues.
War and Peace, chapter one,
The second act.
I am
Without epilog.
from my Dangerous Women: Poetry for the Ageless
I so relate to this, Frances. You truly are gifted in reaching the essence of others.
Everyone needs someone like you in her corner. Thank you, Barbara.
This really answered my downside, thanks!