Beauty and Imminent Loss
Does beauty become more beautiful as the end draws near?
The last few years of my life have confronted me with a kind of isolation I never thought I would experience. Not isolation from books or music or what’s happening in my back yard.
Rather, this is about isolation from people. People I love; people I’ve never met in person; people with stories about themselves that I’ll likely never hear.
This morning I read through some of my poems. My health is pretty good these days, as long as I obey my doctors’ orders. My spirit, however, feels caught in a web of weariness and sadness. Some is about the state of our country and this planet. Much is about our rush here in the USA to make sure we’re on the ‘right’ or ‘left’ side of things.
I’m keenly aware of how lonely it is to be a people-person who can no longer galivant with friends and neighbors. If you’re not an introvert, you might think I’ve never in my life known what it means to galivant. That would be a huge error on your part, though I’ll admit to this: I had to learn to have a good time. It didn’t come easy.
So….this morning I read through the March poems I included in Without a Flight Plan. This one hit the mark. Not too cheery; not too morose.
Beneath trees of my childhood
of my childhood
memories flood my eyes with
dreams and sorrows
the space of one life
gazing at tamed
and untamed beauty
until this moment
of imminent loss
I pray this day brings peace, beauty, and buckets of kindness to enjoy, and to give away.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 March 2023
Photo found at etsy.com, John McManus Fine Art