WINTER TWILIGHT

“A man’s age is something impressive, it sums up his life: maturity reached slowly and against many obstacles, illnesses cured, griefs and despairs overcome, and unconscious risks taken; maturity formed through so many desires, hopes, regrets, forgotten things, loves. A man’s age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories.” - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

A family friend is well into her 80s and lives alone. She has a son, but he has his own family and lives in another suburb, although he and his family visit her often. We often drop in too, as do some other of her other friends. In the last few months she is getting more forgetful, confuses words and may be in the early stages of dementia. Her health is otherwise good, but what a difference the decline of the brain makes on the ability to live a rich and fulfilling life. I think if ever I were to become demented I would want a rapid end as it would not be me anymore. If the brain deteriorates, then everything is over, what makes us a unique and individual person disappears. This poem is written for her on this wintry night…

Winter Twilight

A grey afternoon and leaden sky
Dies down into silvery twilight,
As the sun slips away in the west
And the last ray tinged with green, flashes.

My room dark, cold and empty
Waiting for night with resignation,
While I touch familiar things
Searching for reassurance.

Silence as the road becomes deserted
The birds long since roosted for the night.
The ticking of a clock, a rustle of wind,
My mind turning over thoughts restlessly.

The cloudy sky covers moon and stars
And kills all hopeful signs of morning.
The light still out, I watch the darkness
Creep around me, night falling hard.

Winter is long and harsh this year,
Spring thoughts hard to conjure up,
As years weigh heavily on my back
And warmth is only found by the fireside...