Room
A poem by Vijaya Sundaram
©March 13th, 2015
Pearl-white and luminous
Shadowed in light,
Misted with kindness
Age comes to me,
And shadowed things drive the air
Back and forth, behind her.
And spirits stand in wait.
Purple and grey and silver
They flock around her,
And she looks at me,
Hand outstretched.
I take her hand, and
Find myself change, as I
Dissolve into silken mist.
She slips me on
Like queenly raiment,
And shrugs the last of me
Onto fine-boned shoulders,
Ready to sprout wings.
Feel the weight
Of the years grow light
And settle into new spaces
Around her.
Feel hips mould themselves
Into the stage past
Child-bearing, and there is lightness
Within hollowing bones.
The blood flows thinly,
Closer to the surface of things
Tears collect behind the back of eyes,
Damming them,
And then drain back into sluices.
I taste them, and remember
Thalassa, thalassa!
Oh, it’s not sorrow
Nor is it regret.
It’s simply
Being here, being alive,
Being happy, being sad,
Being good, being bad,
Being kind, and learning
To be kind.
It’s about pleasant things
And unpleasant, and
About leaving behind insults
And leaving behind scrapes
And leaving behind anticipation
And leaving behind heart-ache,
And leaving behind all those
Passing folk, shadows to my own.
We pass each other,
They and I,
Cocooned, shrouded in our
Own fog, eyes up or down, or
Gazing all around,
Going on our separate ways.
And so, Age slips me on
And I collect in folds around her,
Silken, thinking,
So much room to grow into!
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