by Sally Zakariya

         On turning 80

Bring me to the end, Age,
but not quickly
and not forgetting
to stop along the way
for the fresh scent of rain
for the swaying grasses
by the side of the road
and not forgetting
the sharp geometry
of the shadows
the topaz sun throws
over my shoulder
or the gentle gleam
of the moon’s light
in the eyes
of my lover.

Bring me to the end
without counting steps
along the way
without letting me
miss the many steps
I take beside him.

Age, you terrify
and embrace me,
endanger and
comfort me.

Bring me at last
to that end
we all know
and do not know.

 

Image: Blades of Grass by Debendra Das via Pexels