.
The Elders
I watched them wilt,
I watched them fade,
I watched them pass
In the evening shade,
And now I tread
The path they trod,
Having walked the walk
For seventy odd,
And though I know
The course is set,
The darkness has not
Claimed me yet.
I do not bid it,
But I do not shy,
For the elders showed me
How to die.
.
.
John Creekmore is a 77-year-old retired human services worker. He was born and grew up in Norfolk, Virginia and now lives in nearby Suffolk. He was previously published in The Mindfulness Bell, The Lyric, The Road Less Taken and The Westward Quarterly.
I like this. Quite poignant. Reads much like a Langston Hughes poem. Thank you!
Thanks. If you can remind people of the greats, it may mean you should continue the work.
Love this, John. Simple, profound, poignant.
Thanks. I try to keep it simple. What good is a poem if the general public can’t understand it?
I’ve spent much time in sub-Saharan Africa where elders are still revered and respected for the wisdom that comes (hopefully) with longevity, so for me this simple yet complex composition is on the money.
Thanks for the read, John.
Thanks. Glad you inserted that parenthetical “hopefully.” Thus far I have managed to be old without being an old fool. Thus far.
This seventy-year-old is moved by this powerful, creative poem!
Thanks. Three score and ten can be a lot better than it used to be.
Thank you for this clear and simple acceptance of the inevitable, poem John. It cannot be too nasty on the other side as the vast majority of humanity have not returned….. as far as we know!!
Thanks. Well, this trip is time sensitive, as we all know. But if we are attentive, life will give us clues as to how to bear it.
Very poignant. It reminds me how thinking and perceptions change as the decades pass. Moving and well done.
Thanks. I was a social worker in a chronic disease hospital for 12 years. It left its mark on me.
Sometimes, John, I’m in the mood for some very abrupt, very clipped verse, and this is one of those times. You made your points, and you jabbed us well.
Thanks. Sometimes brevity says more than wordiness