These old Bones

Years ago at a loved one's bed side she told me similar words of this poem. They were a beautiful gift that helped me deal with her passing with nothing but smiles.

These old Bones

By

Carlos Lorenzo Estrada 

These old bones which I see

are a reflection of an older me.

Crotchety, petulant, angry, and incense 

Gone the days of youthful exuberance.

Mellifluous melodic a voice once so sweet

Cantankerous gravelly and angry in deceit.

Ambivalent indifferent to which the world I live

No longer kind natured, or a willingness to give.

The mirror is my enemy; paints face with wrinkles and blotch.

I am a prisoner to moments of time, and the uncaring hands of a clock.

But what will be remembered of these ol bones when placed within a mound?

I pray it be a legacy of the most kindest heart profound. 

And so in dream; I dare in my demise.

I lived a life content; with heart uncompromised

I care not for the tears they weep 

Just take these hopes and let me sleep.

Leave me to the past; where I belong.

With love...and with song.

Author's Note

When I leave this world I hope it is under my terms and in this way. Dignity intact, hope in my heart, and looking forward to being part of this universe in what ever form it may be. Thank you all for sharing this dream with me....into the twilight of the void

Reviews

[Fran Marie]

Its so true we live in a different
uncaring world for the most
part..the hands of time wait
for no man as we all grow
old..wither and die ..but hey
we have seen better times
and we have those memories
of yore ..i like the way you
wrote this one..

well done

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you so much for reading this poem. If I could be granted the way I choose to leave this world it would be under these terms. No fanfare or tears. No gathering or wake. To be left to the past where I belong....

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree Carlos.
"Leave me to the past; where I belong.
With love...and with song"
I enjoyed the complete poem and the above lines. A perfect ending. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry and your thoughts.
Coyote

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you, CP, for your thoughts on this poem. My favorite part of this work is the final two lines I have to admit. Because it truly does encompass the individual legacy. The finality of our work, what has come to define us. What will be celebrated at our end. I feel it speaks to us as human beings . That we don't want our departure to be in tears but in joy in a life well lived. Your thoughts on these lines echo my own. Thank you so much my friend for commenting.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome Carlos.

[John the Baptist]

I saw much of what the poem describes when I worked in a chronic disease hospital. A lot of elderly, demented people there. I fully agree with the sentiments expressed in the note. After a useful life, then a smooth descent and a soft landing.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you, John, for your thoughts on this poem. I worked at a hospital for a few years in their IT department and would periodically go to the different floors to fix their equipment. I saw a lot of suffering in that place. Especially in their cancer ward which still affects me to this day. Hearing the screaming for pain meds but unable to get any because they had maxed out on their dosage. It was so difficult seeing those things. And also being present at a couple of family members passing. I hope I can leave this place with some dignity. All I can ever do is simply hope. But I do aspire for that simple slip into the ether in a gentle painless sleep. With at least some memory of who I was. I'll be content with just that. Thank you again my friend, for your thoughts.

[Neville]

.......... you have so deftly captured the landscape of my personal autumn .. and indeed, so well
and from one who writes, your authors note is to die for :)

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you Neville. This was a labor of love that truly hit a bit too close to home. I was present at both my grandmother and my father's passing. Nothing scares me more in this world then leaving it piece by piece and without dignity. But their strength and will in essence has taught me to fear nothing, because in the end this piece of flesh truly is such an insignificant part of us. And I know I'll be ok. Thanks again my friend.

[Shelley Warner]

It was a special poem. I'm glad that writing it helped you with your grief.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you, Shelley, for commenting on this work. Writing for me has been cathartic in so many ways it's hard to describe. It is a remarkable joy and a place for me to find bliss in this art. Since age 12 I have written off and on, only now having a greater appreciation and respect for the art form. To be able to share thoughts and stories with people all over the world is an absolute blessing. Especially when they take the time to write me and share a comment or story of their own. It is why I always strive to make my response a personal one so that they know I am deeply appreciative of the time and voice on subjects I attempt to write about. So thank you so much for your words.

[Shelley Warner]

You're very welcome Carlos. Yes, writing is cathartic for me too. It helped me as I worked through some faith issues. It helped me with the grief of losing my husband. And it helps me celebrate the joy I've found with John.

[Ted Kniffen]

A wonderful comment on aging and death ...
If we are lucky, we grow old, and eventually pass on to whatever awaits our spirit. Your poem is an apt description of both ...

Well done.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you, Ted, I truly appreciate the comment and thoughts about this work. When writing this I was reminded of my youth and sitting bedside by my grandmother who was in the hospital. Diabetes was taking her sight her ability to walk and do the things she loved doing in life. She described the nature of growing old and to a teen it was all so esoteric. It could have been the numerical answer to quantum science for all I knew I just was not going to understand what she was attempting to convey to me. But slas I now know, and she was so right. Growing old is a b***h! It hurts...like all over. In places I didn't even know had nerve endings. I can even smell my own old-ness, I kid you not. Not even half a bottle of old spice can cure it. Come to think of it does Old Spice still make cologne? Geez I'm old, and pissed. Two combinations that just shouldn't go together. Thank you again for your thoughts but especially listening to the rants of a crotchety old man. Now where are my damn keys? Second time this week...or was it the third?

[AllenS]

Honest, "rhymical", delightful. Thanks for telling it like it is.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you, Allen, for commenting on this work. It's hard on the knees on the back on the eyes, and don't get me started on what else is Hard or lacking as age goes on! Hahaha. We are not meant to go out gracefully by nature's standards. We cried as a baby entering the world to our first forgotten experience of pain and we re live that experience only this time in full realization of that sensation. It is a cruel joke aging. I'm angry at it. I hate it, despise it, I rail against it, and yet powerless to stop it. Not to sound too crass, but in my youth I could at least hold in a fart! Damn you mother nature can I at least keep one semblance of human decency? Sorry about the rant, we Hispanics tend to let our emotions get the better of us. It's that Latin blood, but even now age is making me anemic. Damn you mother nature! Why..why...why! Oh coffee cool beans, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, thank you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts on this work I truly appreciate it. Omg I forgot where I put my keys again. Damn....I hate Mondays. Oh wait it is Friday...well I hate them too now.

[AllenS]

I git it, and got it, and I lay here in bed trying to rest a right hip that has to drive 10 more days till replacement.

[Poetic Beauty]

The autumn of like isn’t always easy and can be difficult to take in what is coming and how we have changed. I love the fact that the heart for being kind is what should be remembered.

Great write on aging and the final stages of life.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you, PB, for your wonderful comment. The words were truly derived by my own old bones which tell me these things on a daily basis. Aging is not an easy process at all. My grandmother told me this years ago before her passing and I didn't quite understand the meaning of her words until now. We are dragged defiantly towards death's door. But as we move through the threshold we come to our peace for the entirety of our life journey. This poem reminds me of what to expect and I will not be surprised nor disappointed. Thank you again for your comment and time.

[Poetic Beauty]

Life even death is an unplanned journey

[jacob erin-cilberto]

reminds me that I want "Arms of an Angel" played at my funeral, even though I won't have one..so when my ashes are spread in Tickle Naked Pond (yes it is real Pond...you can google it.)
I would love that song sung by my two friends who are going to do this...Sarah M. sings it so beautifully.
I love the shape of this as an hour glass...time sifting away.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

I was waiting for someone to notice the hour glass shape. Nothing gets past you my friend. I wanted to add 4 more stanzas near the bottom but I preferred the flow of the poem without them. It probably would have made the shape more obvious. Arms of an angel is a very beautiful song. It's almost difficult to decide what song I would want played at my funeral. To be honest I would love the Benny Hill theme song played just for laughs with a farting sound coming out of the casket. That would make a perfect ending. Thank you, Jacob, for sharing your thoughts, as always I appreciate it.

[Chris Shaw]

This poem speaks to me Carlos, about the struggles that come with aging. Aches and pains, lack of mobility, let alone losing our mental capacity. The sweetness of youth can be replaced by frustration and lack of dignity in our senior years. Those old bones may hide the person we once knew. Compassion, patience and understanding are needed. My mum is a shell of her former self. I will always remember her as the beautiful, inspirational parent of her younger years. That is the soul I will remember, not the lady she has now become, who at times is totally unfamiliar to me. It seems to me that your most loved one was asking to be remembered the same way. For her good heart in her younger years. A most moving poem which will be relatable to many of your readers. It is always a pleasure to read your work and the wide variety of topics you undertake.

Chris

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you, Chris, for sharing your moving story with your mother. I myself am at the cusp of those twilight years hitting the roller-coaster at the top at the edge of descending. I too feel these words more then ever. I wonder what my eulogy will be? Is it the same grit and puckish nature my grandmother exhibited at her end or the gradual decline my father endured. We all find our way into the arms of death differently I believe. It's in the afterwards we hope it is celebrated with joy at our living, and us being known. I really treasure the opportunity of sharing my thoughts in words with you and my other peers in writing. To me it feels as if we are all around a campfire taking turns expounding upon our art with one another. And I take just as much joy in the reading of your work as well because not only is it thought provoking of the nature around us but it's also very empathetic as well. Thank you so much for both your kind words and most importantly your friendship.

[Chris Shaw]

It is rewarding to have your company here Carlos. I like the idea of poets sitting together round a camp fire. Thank you also for your kind words about my own efforts.