My days are slowly drifting into rest —
a kind of ease and yet a kind of test.
Though slowing age has made me leisurely,
I miss being quick and busy; I miss my zest.
And still I say I’m lucky. Not for me
(not yet at any rate) the agony
of cruel illness, not for me the blight
of dimming mind in dread senility.
I think again of her mind, young and bright.
She’s ready now, she says, to enter night.
Her mind is housed in an invaded brain,
the tumour slowly crowding out her light.
She’s tired of fighting, certain it’s in vain.
Shut away from sunlight, trees and rain,
she turns eighteen but must not celebrate.
Her mind and body learn increasing pain.
I don’t believe she has one certain fate —
but she believes, raging and desolate.
‘Live fast, die young ...’ Some fools might count her blest;
but she’s been neither fool nor profligate.
I’m old: I’ve lived a life, fulfilled a quest.
I watch my sun start dipping to the west
with no great eagerness; but I admit,
aching for my young friend, I come off best.
Submitted to ‘imaginary garden with real toads’, Rubaiyat prompt and also to dVerse Open Link Night #20
Several years later, in February 2019, linked also to dVerse's Poetry Forms—The Rubaiyat.
I remember that having a strict form to use made it easier to write on such a troubling topic, enabling me to contain the emotion and be reflective (which is also the mood of Fitzgerald's translation of Omar, I think, albeit the subject matter is very different.)
a sad tale...kind of...having lived a full life to know it is time i think would be comforting as well maybe...a final rest...nicely done to form...
ReplyDeleteThis is a heart-breaker! Sometimes life is unfathomable. Thank you for this exceptional Rubaiyat - you made the form your own.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Brian and Kerry. It was what was there to be written, uppermost in my mind at the time.
ReplyDeleteElegiac and lovely, Rosemary! xxxj
ReplyDeleteoh my...eighteen..this moved me to tears rosemary..
ReplyDelete18 is so young and yet, maybe she herself knows it's her time to go. We each come here with a destiny to fulfill, maybe your young friend has fulfilled hers.
ReplyDeleteHeart-breaking for her family who have to let her go, heart-breaking for all whose lives she has touched through her life.
Very deeply heart felt.
I think she is just plain tired of the struggle. She has been told from the start there was no hope, which I think was a mistake on the doctors'part though I can perhaps understand their reasons. Yet they have worked to keep her alive so far. She is sad and angry at the loss of all her dreams for her future. Also she can't understand why she has had to endure these months of pain and sorrow instead of going quickly. She is a very talented girl at writing, painting and acting, with passionate political views, so it seems a great waste of her promise.
ReplyDeleteSo young to suffer...I feel your words here. This is very touching... I hope she finds her peace at the end ~
ReplyDeleteThe form here really helps make the strong emotion in the subject matter go down harder, better...and it is the saddest of tales, I agree. I am the last one to understand why this stuff happens.
ReplyDeleteVery sad. Terrible. I've seen some situations like this. Impossible to understand and accompanied, as you've described so well, by the pain that you cannot share your own age with someone else, your own good fortune. K.
ReplyDelete"Some fools might count her blest;
ReplyDeletebut she’s been neither fool nor profligate."
What wonderful words. This is very classic and refined. The poem is a fine piece of writing.
Thank you all, dear people, for the kind and understanding comments. @hedgewitch, yes the form helped. The necessity for rhyme etc. made for greater dignity of language, which I'm glad of for this subject and probably would not have equalled in free verse.
ReplyDeleteHeartbreakingly beautiful poetry. Sometimes a jolt like this puts the small niggles of age into perspective.
ReplyDeleteThank you for writing this to focus our attention on the matter is such a beautiful manner.
ReplyDeleteRosemary, this poem is heartbreaking. I feel so sad for this young woman...far too young to be facing death.
ReplyDeleteHeartfelt and sad.
ReplyDeleteI'm very moved by this Rosemary... unfathomable tricks... Your piece has great dignity and strength.. very well achieved in describing the pain of this situation.
ReplyDeleteI have always contended the change is not so much age as illness although often they are coupled; here hope wanes when the disease overpowers a young person. The heartache is eased through the effortless flow of your words and the structure in the rubaiyat of your poem.
ReplyDeleteShe is far too young to become an angel.
ReplyDeleteAs we age, if we are blessed with only the “normal” signs of aging —- the slowing down, being less limber even though we exercise, some aches and pains and needing new glasses more often...we are thankful for every day. And then we see younger persons struggling...like the young woman you describe here..l.and it’s just impossible to understand. Life is fickle....happiness a gift.
I see you wrote this 8 years ago Rosemary. It is well written, beautiful, and sad. I hope you are still doing well, and that your young friend found a way out of the snare of the tumor. I lost my 18-year-old son to a reckless driver. It is not the natural way for the young to go before we seniors. It is not right for a father to bury his young son. It is not right that the young should suffer their way to their death. This was a dufficult matter to tackle Rosemary, and you did it with grace and tenderness. Bravo!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rob. The young woman in the poem turned out not to be so dangerously ill after all; however the poem was written when it appeared that she was, so I let it stand. I cannot begin to imagine the endless grief of losing one's child! I'm sure it never really goes away.
DeleteI also saw a comment here from Viv. We got to be pretty good internet friends over the years that we shared our poetry. For 5 years (2007-2012) I published and hosted a poetry prompt site called Writer's Island. Viv always responded to my prompts. We would exchange thought on poetry. Loved her spirit! I miss her visiting my blogs.
ReplyDeleteI'm sure many of us still miss Viv. Wonderful woman!
DeleteNice description of your young friend with these lines: "Some fools might count her blest;
ReplyDeletebut she’s been neither fool nor profligate."
Marvelous and poignant. I really am impressed with this.
ReplyDeleteThanks for linking this up Rosemary. Hope you are well.
ReplyDeleteThis was a heartbreaking story, beautifully told. So glad the outcome changed, from what I gather in your more recent comments.
ReplyDeleteso beautiful and poignant. reading through the comments and to see her brush with death passed is happiness.
ReplyDeleteA sad tale at any age.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a sad reading, I'm glad the young woman were better than it seemed... it was also such an experience with all the familiar faces commenting... thank you, and what a great topic for a poem.
ReplyDeleteso appreciate you writing this, though it must have been hard as you were writing it, a form does make it easier to tell a difficult story, that was a good sharing Rosemary
ReplyDeleteI love the way you allude to aging with the comparison of the young girl. She has obviously been pushed to her limit.
ReplyDeleteVery beautiful and very moving. We are blessed to live a good span of years and a young life cut short seems the most tragic. I love your ease with this form of poetry. Have drafted but not submitted mine yet. Too much pondering!
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this. Your final stanza and your observation at the end are very fitting.
ReplyDelete