Tenderized
That mashing of my heart
started at 18 when I was dying,
when I teetered on the cusp.
Motherhood, scant years after,
assured the arduous process would continue:
tenderization.
Then with each new love,
my husking down to thick-soup slush
happened deeper.
Now I’m old with slow cooking
and I know there’s more
softening to come.
When everything makes you cry,
are you getting ready to die?
When you walk along the street
and tears leak out of your eyes
because of beauty all around,
are you getting ready to die?
When the smell of the wild rose
makes you cy, you must be
getting ready to die.
And aren’t we always
and may we ever
be getting ready to die.
©Susa Silvermarie 2022
Beautiful, Susa…
I seem to be partial to your poems about old age and dying. Love the idea of tenderizing!
I, too, am thinking more of dying as get closer to the reality of my mortality. What else is there to do? Have I done all that is to be done in this life? Am I finished? Thank you.