I no longer look for Mr. Right,
can’t envision him in my space
can’t see myself naked under the light,
not the vision to behold
I care to share.
The man I might want
has nothing to do with this reality,
wouldn’t be attracted
to this hag worn body
ragged at the seams
creaking joints making
a cacophony of noise
Looking back –
I skated the edge
for more years
then I care to admit.
Looked at life darkly
groveled, debased myself,
making self-pity an art form
But now I am willing to shoulder
crone status and its implications.
No young God will warm my bed
I take comfort in its space
in wearing old, worn bedclothes
with no one looking askance at me
My body can make all the noises
a symphony makes
sore bones moaning
Cat curled against my back
on inky dark, windswept nights.
It’s one of those bitter Spring days. One of rain and a chill that seeps into your marrow. The leaves are unfurling, flowers are everywhere, but I’m not about to go appreciate them. This is an essential rite of passage (April showers bring . . . ) and our water tables need every drop, but I’d like to go out and play and doing so with an umbrella just doesn’t cut it. I vaguely remember a time when I enjoyed the rain but the key word is vaguely. Times have changed.
With Fibromyalgia and Arthritis, my body is screaming out in pain. It is a sorry state to be in and so many of us have it. The weather hurls its dispensations down on you. You are at the mercy of your body. When I go out, I watch people walking in the rain, umbrella-less, as if they hadn’t a care in the world. My nose glued to the windows, taking in the bounty of Spring through the drops sliding down the windows. Poor, pitiful me.
It’s Spring! I can see the beauty of the world resurrecting itself. Be grateful we still have the cycle of seasons even if they aren’t as in the past. The flowers are magnificently vibrant this year. They sparkle in vivid hues I don’t remember seeing so strongly in some time. I moan and groan in disrespect for God’s creation. I’m inside, my cat lying next to me, having the time to write and read for a change. I have every reason to be grateful and have I mentioned . . . It’s Spring!