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| Ceci n'est pas une pipe |
There's an age spot on my left hand.
It's been there for some time now.
I try not to notice it.
This is my father's pond:
and these, my father,
and my father's gardens.
My father was always ageless. Now, he is nearly 75.
He hauls pots and plants and small boulders up his hillside alone. Even as his eyes grow cloudier,
he gardens from dawn to dusk.
My father is old. My father is strong.
I, too, am aging.
I have a liver spot on my left hand.
It's been there for some time now.
If you were an artist, and you closed your eyes, this is me:
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| My friend Lori Landau drew this blind contour. I love this more than words itself. I see me. I am not old or young. I just am. |
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When I enter the water, I am strong. I can swim forever.
Yesterday, I braved the water alone.
The waves were strong. They slammed me down.
I was free and not afraid.
When I swim, I have no
age spots
or unfamiliar creases,
or tired eyes.
When I swim,
I am all blind contours.
This is the swing that looks out over my father's gardens:
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| today it was empty because he was working in his gardens. One day, it will just be empty. |
How I wish everything could stay green.
- gae
