Regaining Form

Even elite athletes struggle for form!

I would give my right arm

to regain my youth,

to retrace the path

and have it lit

by wisdom.

 

But here and now

I stand,

transfixed,

in the shadow of death.

 

Too late to look back

with any real intent,

other than

to bleed remorse.

 

I must break from this

'stress position'

where I am fixed

and transfixed to the pain

and regret

in my limbs.

 

I must forge on,

keep ploughing

life's furrows

even with tired legs

and a weary soul.

 

I must regain,

reclaim,

and retain

the stamina,

the purpose,

I know

that I own.

 

10/09/20

Author's Note

Reviews

[Anastasia]

I read this poem very carefully and interestedly and here is what I have to say. Things do change with age and so its just a matter of shifting perspective you know. Younger people are more likely to feel motivated by goals, money and enthusiasm from others, but as people grow older they are more inspired by their partners, family and nature and of course self-actualization by which I mean practising an art form, which in our case is writing. We have to find pleasure in these things and we must force ourselves to get interested lest Some older adults simply give up their interests over time because they stop finding pleasure in things lest anhedonia sets in which is a lack of motivation to do things, or general apathy. I think the regaining of form is easily done with a bit of resolve and determination.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

I so agree with you Sabrina. I have to admit that I use some small truths in my own feelings in my work but embellish it with much poetic licence and, like the beachcomber' in one of my recent poems I collect parts of other people and their experiences and emotions to bake into my writing. Many thanks for such considered reviewing.

[Anastasia]

Somehow I felt this was not a lament but just thoughts and feelings to depict a certain state of mind. So I was kind of right. It was nice reading.

[Eilis]

I feel like the illusion that we can go back follows us forever. Perhaps this is the root of the mid-life crisis, some hope that the things we feel we missed or would like to experience again can be regained. I wonder what makes the human mind the prisoner it often is to imagination. I’m sure aging for the elite athlete is difficult as the things that have defined life begin to shift out of their control.

An interesting exploration, John. Gets to the heart of something about being human. There are many things we can never do, but that doesn’t stop us from dreaming about them and driving ourselves half mad. Great work.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Thank you so much Eilis. I have to admit to taking half-truths and then like the beachcomber in my recent poem by the same name I collect pieces of other people or experiences and mixing them on the page. Many thanks.