Home   |   LCS Prints Store   |   About Me   |   FAQ   

Monday, July 1, 2013

For My Daughter on the Cusp of Twenty

I see in you a 2:00 a.m. face.
Amber light in a wing-back chair,
The talcum arc of rounded cheeks,
Coils of love vining an invisible wire.
I had yet to know we all remain infants.
Even as we grey, life casts us
Into washing machine blizzards,
Snapping limbs,
Marathon bombs and such.
How to explain—
In some way, you will always feel
Two, or seven or ten or nineteen.

At eighty-one my father said
He didn’t feel different
Until he looked in the mirror.
Now I understand.
I sit on the contoured cushion
of that aging chair,
while down a narrow hallway,
you sleep folded into yourself 
like a moth turned toward the wall.
Bound now by compound steel,
nothing is the same.
But nothing changes.
I know only that
You remain every age you ever were
On the path toward what you'll be,
Your nineteen as young as fifty-four,
Twenty as old as my ninety-three.


Steve Finnell said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Old Kitty said...

Oh I do like the moth image!! I like that very very much!!! It speaks volumes!

Take care

mshatch said...

Your father echoes the thoughts of many, I think, including me! Lovely poem.

Robin said...

Wow. I truly love this one. The imagery is wonderful. Aging is something that we all can relate to in ourselves and others. We see ourselves, and others, getting older, but in our hearts we'll always be YOUNG. And so will the people we love. You captured it perfectly!

Susan Gourley/Kelley said...

That was beautiful and really touches on how I feel about my children.
And also gave me a good reason to avoid mirrors.

Alex J. Cavanaugh said...

That was wonderful! I like the line about remaining every age you ever were.

Words A Day said...

That was beautiful, and so true we all 'remain infants' :) I think its v importent to write poems to our daughters. Thanks Liza

Carol Kilgore said...

This is absolutely beautiful, Liza. Reading it gave me goosebumps. Good ones :)

Bish Denham said...

A truly beautiful poem! My mother told me when she was well into her 70s or 80s, that she felt the same as when she was twenty and it was hard because her body wouldn't let her do what her mind wanted to. I didn't quite get it then, but I do now and your poem captures it. So bitter-sweet.

Karen Jones Gowen said...

Aging is such a strange thing isn't it, if you really stop to think about it. As you did in your very nice poem. And seeing one's children grow older is especially emotional.

Jan Morrison said...

Thanks my deario! This is a wonderful poem. And won't she treasure it!