BEING OLD

Being old is gathering bits of memory from those many moments that have slipped away
Each moment is like a grain of sand slowly sliding into the bottom of a cracked hour glass
As time goes on the crack widens letting more and more sand slip through
There is no way to mend an old broken glass, and so the sand flows out, never to be recovered

Being old is having a body retaliate for all the neglect and abuse it has endured for so many years
It remembers the beatings, the rapes, the overeating, being over worked, no rest, the shame, the guilt
The payment give is pain, and that is felt with every movement, every action, even just simply sitting still
A old body that has had a lifetime of being abused and neglected does not forget or forgive

Being old is remembering all the many constant mistakes
Wanting always to replace those bad moments, yet
There is no redo, no retake, no second chance
Once a moment is gone, and that grain of sand has dropped into the cracked hour glass, it is gone forever

Being old is being tired of so many things, of life itself, and wondering if this will be the day the broken hour glass will finally be empty
Wanting to leave, yet not
Will there be no more pain, no more regrets
No more being old