My Holiday Anxiety

Alone, elderly, widowed, 

the family all scattered —

what I dread about Christmas

is the kindness of rescuing friends …

but refusals would seem

not only rude, ungrateful, but weird.

So, false polite thanks as they drag me

from sweet Pagan solitude. 

Actually, I did tell the friend who invited me this year, 'I don't really do Christmas.' But she said, ' Wouldn't you just like to come for a nice Vegan meal?' Put like that, it did sound nice, and I accepted happily.

This poem started out to be a sijo, but I needed an extra line, so I'm calling it an extended  sijo.

Written for Friday Writings #157: Holiday Anxieties.

Knowing What I Know

Assignment: write about an adventure you dream of. I realise that, at 85, I have already lived all the adventures I ever yearned for. 

Most of them involved travel. And of course I dreamed of — and found — the adventure of love. I feel no lack, no longing. I am replete.

Then I realise that the lack of any hankering is because I’m still in the best adventure. I’ve reached an understanding: Life itself is the greatest, the grandest, the most exciting adventure! It’s a quieter adventure by now …  but also deeper. It’s beautiful.

sunset

along the horizon —

I’m blessed

I wish I could share my understandings. Having lived to be old, I have — as we are told to expect — acquired some wisdom. There are things I have learned, things I now know. How much easier would it be for younger friends if I could pass these things on? But they don’t want to listen. They argue against the pearls I drop, they swear it’s different for them. They won’t even try my way.

Perhaps they’re right. We are all different. Temperaments and circumstances vary. Also, what is appropriate at one age might be all wrong at a different stage of life.

nearing the end

I see that my story 

is mine alone

I realise, reluctantly, that I must allow those I care for to make their own mistakes; that is the way they will learn whatever lessons they need. The only way to learn the great truths is to live them … live into them.

unheard — 

wisely, I resign myself 

to silence

Written for Friday Writings #156 at Poets and Storytellers United: Let's Go Adventuring!