The Rules of Engaging Grief

In stillness we discover an ageless, youthful quality that I have tried to capture in the following poem:

Will You Tell Me?

Will you tell me
How old I am –
I mean in years?

You see I get confused
When I catch her smile
From across the room, or

Describe to five-year olds
How I got the scar
Above my nose, or

Walk – not run –
Along the beach
The surfers far out.

There’s a hint or two,
But I need confirmation
Lest I do something rash –

Like hang-glide
Off the cliff toward
The sea at dawn,

Race an eleven-year old
Down the field
To score a goal,

Trek a glacier field
To a base camp
In the Himalayas.

Have you noticed
Lines etched on face and hands
Define an ageless soul

Long patient to emerge
In word, gesture, laughter,
Tears and silence?

Please tell me
How old I am,
She’s still smiling.

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