We’re down to the final days of both the poetry challenge and the blogging challenge. I’m a little sad about it because I have enjoyed all the writing I am doing and the reading of everyone else’s work. There are so many wonderful writers and poets in our world, and I’m glad to have been able to be a part of it this time around.
So, on this our last Sunday of the poetry challenge we are to write a persona poem. We have to step out of ourselves and write from a different point of view. I don’t know about other poets but this is something I think I do on a regular basis when I write. I become someone else in a way. Sometimes I do write from my own perspective, but, maybe because of all the reading I do, I can envision what it would be like from someone else’s point of view. Sometimes, even some thing’s point of view. Poetry, and writing, allows us to develop empathy and compassion. Empathy is an important trait to have, especially as a writer. To be able to understand another perspective, and have compassion for it, is truly a gift.
When I began writing today’s poem, I had started it as coming from the point of view of a Phoenix. But it quickly became a woman’s voice, a grandmother’s voice. And so, I wrote as her. I hope you enjoy it.
Advice from Atropos
By Jessica Scott
Look at me.
Look at me and dread the day you
look like me,
skin creasing, folding in on itself,
hair greying, thinning, turning white
as age gnaws on my bones.
With age comes wisdom,
or so they say.
Let me tell you what I have learned
in this lifetime.
Life is hard and unfair;
it is ugly and messy and so full of disappointment.
It leaves you scarred, your body marked,
and, sometimes your soul, for all eternity.
You will cry and beat your fists in rage;
it’s how we come into this world,
and how some of us go out, still fighting
the current that draws us inexorably
toward the waterfall without a paddle;
we all go over, willing or not.
But there are moments…
Oh, such moments!
Such sweet, pleasurable, blood-racing,
breath-holding, firework moments…
the touch of someone’s hand on
your’s, the sound of a baby’s first laugh,
the scent of fresh spring rain,
the silk of his or her lips on your lips.
Oh, how I will miss the simple
pleasure of a kiss.
So, look at me.
Look at me and remember these days of your youth,
for they will not come again.
Remember the hard days, and the good;
relish every heart-stopping, goose-pimple, champagne-bubble moment,
because these are what get us through,
and make life worth living.