Some newly found old things.

I was sitting in my room upstairs, looking through old books of short stories and poetry, and remembering, and I came upon a great poem that I haven’t read in a long time. This is it:

Athlete Growing Old

Grace Butcher

 

The caution is creeping in:

the step is hesitant

from years of pain;

a soft grunt bends the body over,

and straightens it.

The skin loosens; everything moves

nearer the ground.

 

To overcome the softening,

the yearning towards warmth,

she exercises,

makes her muscles hard,

runs in the snow,

asks herself when she is afraid,

“What would you do now if

you were not afraid?”

 

She listens for the answer

and tries to be

like that person who speaks,

who lives just outside

all her boundaries

and constantly calls her

to come over, come over.

 

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About Sally

It's all about me. ALL OF IT. ABOUT ME.
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