Growing Old

Growing Old
When I grow up, I want to be like the kid
The sharp sand calescently kisses his hands
Paying homage to the man with the plan
He sprouts castles so firm
That the ravaging wave stopped trying
Perhaps just an utopian boy
With hands for a voice

In September 2016, my great grandmother summarized life for me
Only to leave us on the 27th of September, 2017
May she rest in peace
The next day, when the sun visited
The marks she left were still glistening

Because even though the bones creak five times with every step
The eyelids chisels decades of memories
So that when you blink the world sip a droplet of your story
Can you see it? Can you look into the distance?
And if the wrinkles of the hand crest with the sun atop
The shade lies below the creases
You still have to choose to either stay alive or to live
To either take or to give
Give and breathe potent words with ease

Abu A'ish Mk Albani