Monday, June 26, 2017

The Lady by Ken LaRive

The Lady

My heart holds a lady in a chromed wheel chair,
Bleached white with age under sun-glowing hair.
Thought she inanimate, a sculpture in stone,
Sitting alone in a retirement home.

Fluoresced with force that transcended her age,
Within the twisted bent body of her cage.
Grand memories burned in her wrinkled old breast,
A strength that remained when dreams lay to rest.

What sunlit days of joy have come, and now gone?
Of what lost love finds her sitting, now alone?
Silvery stories behind sunken closed eyes,
Of sweet tender youth under clear blue skies.

I remember the moment hung suspended in place,
And learned she was more then the lines on a face.
Her shaking hands touched with a soft loving care,
Giving honor to the life that lingered there.

Death of the body is time’s own reward,
Pulling and pushing us into the void.
But an essence remains beyond that dark grave,
Of a soul that transcends the flesh we gave.

 Maddy, married one day. 1971

No comments: