Poems — growing old
Circle of Life
I am getting old. I know my worth.
I know my purpose in this world.
My life is fulfilled, my eyes are ready to rest.
Yet I am still sowing, even if I don’t see the harvest.
Woman's work is never done!
In my blood I carry so many of them.
I can't even begin to fathom how many,
and how different each one of them had been.
You can see them in my gestures,
in my wince,
in my speech,
in my eyes,
in my bones,
in my attitudes...
I am them and they are me.
The good seeds they'd sown...