Ah, you’re here.
Hang your age on the hook by the door,
those pilled, worn decades too heavy for
warm weather like this.
Pull the stitches on your hem,
empty out the leaden years, sewn inside,
documents of your flight,
Here, I’ll help.
Fold all your rememberings.
Put them on the shelf above and
Bring no age, no garments at all.
We’ll lie on warm moss and
rub our backs on the bark of trees
until sorrows loosen and
dried treacheries rub away in flakes.
We’ll butter ourselves with Yes
until our scrubbed new skin shows
life’s holy texture.
We’ll hunt berries until
God’s breath mingles with our saliva and
we chew and swallow
ripe gulps of hope.
©Cheryl G. Bostrom
Isaiah 43:18-19 – “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”
#startingover #poetry #agingwell #forgiveness