The Old and Wise Weep Readily

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In youth,

it’s…all…so…damned

diaphanous.

to be puzzled over, riddled out, proved.

reasoned,
measured for surety,
controlled.

Dry.

It occurred to me today that I am still trying to please her.

Why do the old and wise weep, readily? I know…

Things get a little smush, lines blur, boundaries mingle, I catch up in my panties after a sneeze, in my sniffles dripping,

In braless and beltless resistance,

in blurred vision when I squint in the creak of my knee things relax and melt and meld loose, unnecessary, but

Real.

A right earned,

Messy. In bloodless battles, in humiliations, in worn and weary dungarees, in peacock preening proud.

So when,

a reverie, resolution, realization,
Catches up, pops in,
In belly laughs of happy fat,
You know happy fat?

Pure like Spam in Hawaii.

Solid. Certain. A ray of light, shot to the Heart, then I know, and I weep readily from my Soul there is peace in knowing I’ve done my best.

This rounded thigh is natural curve, not embellished with wrong-doing or high living, aging nicely as She intends, but
this intrusion

Truth

on an unremarkable day, seasoned. Some days my age shows,

And yet, I still strive to please her.

-Tanya

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