The Now Body
My body startles me
now in my ageing —
conditions acquired now
will not now depart.
Too late for prevention now
means too late now for cure.
Some things won’t leave me now
whatever I may do.
I thought I had all the time
in the world. Or at least time enough.
But all we really have is now:
a repeated, relentless now.
It’s not good enough
that I took all those walks
when younger, or swam so often
only a few years ago.
Now if I sit too long
I rise with sudden pain
which eases only when and if
I keep moving around.
At night it’s hard to sleep,
hard to get comfortable, even
in my fine new bed, until finally,
near daybreak, exhaustion wins.
But if I choose to lie down
in the afternoon, not only
does my cat come quick to join me,
sleep does too — how very sneaky.
‘Move your body!’ says my body.
‘Do some long, slow stretches!’
and, ‘Rest between times. Take naps!
Practise your deep breathing!’
Resolved, I rise from the computer
to start preparing my lunch. The crunch —
salad, eggs, or two more shortbread biscuits?
I hate having to decide, and act, right now.
Written in response to Magaly's prompt: "Take Care of your body" in Weekly Scribblings #85 at Poets and Storytellers United.