We turn not older…

emily dickinson poem

We Turn Not Older…

Can I turn one month of challenges into a poem?

I want to believe in the poems I like, for example
“I’m not old, I’m rare”* and
“We grow not older with years but newer every day.”**
I half believe them.
Hunkering down safe inside for two days of snow storm.
Then two days of shoveling, four hours each day.
A neighbor, half my age, inviting me over
to sit with her by the fireplace (she had no snow to shovel).
Exhibiting at Kroc Center paintings by African American
Romare Bearden, wondering if they’d be well received.
Then bad weather again
predictions of flooding – not snow
Then car giving out – $500.
Then awakening to a smoke-filled house at 3 a.m.
only to discover fire was three blocks away.
No wonder I had a sleep of nightmares
being old, sick, incapacitated.
To prove the dream wrong
I go to the pool and swim twenty laps.
What is in store for tomorrow?
Can I have faith “I’m not old, I’m rare” and
“We grow not older with years but newer every day?”
* by Samantha Reynolds – go to bentlily.com
** by Emily Dickinson

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