The Gray Child
Copyright 2009
To the aged go the spoils
those miracles of daily life accumulated
those riches laid down and taken up
stored for the day when
the day when
And life its weary journey plods
and bodies fail and thoughts fail
and nights grow long and short again
and pain of heart
and pain of mind
reside in docile, noisy state
And somewhere deep inside
still striving
a stubborn youth must be heard
amid the cacophonous clamor
of arthritis, myelitis, and actinic nuisance
still inside, somehow despite the years
in that solid, quiet place
that ageless, static place
wherein attends the soul
and resides the dew of hope
of purpose
amid the stuff of dreams
that refuse to die
And light the suffocating darkness breaks
and upward reaches
the essence of which
the real man is made.
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