Old age drove the arrogance out,
humbled me with aching joints,
muscles that no longer work.
I get by – climb a hill,
carry bundles, cans of gas,
whatever the island demands,
but put me in a chair
for more than an hour
and I’m bent like an aged farmer.
What broke me was wildness,
and wildness my salvation.
I’d never have known you
if I hadn’t been the blind optimist
to ring your doorbell and sink
into your sea-green eyes.
So I put up with faltering step,
for I still have sight,
and I do see you.
Reading of “Blind Optimist” with music by Van Morrison
Don,
Loved it. Don’t stop what you are doing. My best wishes as always.
Beautiful poem, Don. This resonated with me deeply. If your verse is anything close to autobiographical, you are indeed a fortunate man.
…”At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.”
– Thomas Hardy
You’re in good company, Don
I might relate via a note to Self: “I gratefully greet YOU anew, sea-green Earth, with Life still being lived — yet Never so cherished (thus relished) as Now, after not only Time, but so many miles of daring adventures having driven me Home.” Godspeed, Old Friend!
Don, I don’t often read such a description of myself. Nicely done even if grim.
Brilliant & timely poem, my aging brother, as i sprawl on the couch with my 4 aging cats, nursing sore muscles from yesterday’s Herculean attempt to stay active & “young” myself… despite the gray hair!
Beautifully honest and tender. My equally ageing joints salute you!
Great poem. Thank you, Don.
Very nice, Don. Age and some wisdom creep up on you.
Your depth of sober touches my soul.
Smiled knowingly with the first paragraph. Thanks
Given the chance I would do it again and again. A great life lived. Now a time of reflection and thanfulness. And a little bit left in the tank to feel useful. Thank you.
Homer may have been blind but he saw eternity. Broken now, I would do it again, a thousand times. A wonderful life. Now, time to reflect and give thanks. Thank you.
What a beautiful love poem from the perspective of old age! Thank you, Don.