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Says the elderly woman to her grandchild:
Come child, sit with me
My eyes are rheumy so I can no longer see as you can see
But I can see things that you cannot.
You’ll look at me, I suspect, and simply see an old lady,
But you won’t be able to see the woman who’s keeping me company, sitting beside me: Patience.
If you don’t see her, don’t worry, dear.
No need to fret, don’t shed a tear.
It isn’t your time yet to see.
You’re still stuck on that hamster wheel, chasing the sun constantly,
Still ruled by anxiety,
Still feeling the need to keep pace with society,
Thinking that you have to do everything quickly.
Thinking “By this age, I must be…”
You’re not yet in the place to end that sentence with at peace or happy.
Don’t worry.
One day, if you’re lucky,
If you grow to be as old as me,
You’d sit one day to catch a breath
And there she’d be handing it to you:
Patience.
She’d put your feet up on cushions like mine
And she’d say, "Well friend, it’s been a long time since we last met."
And she’d remind you of a time long forgotten, a buried memory,
When she lay with you and played with you and cooed with you and helped you to see the world innocently.
Before one day you got up, learned to walk, and left her behind because there was no room in your life for a friend who, as a rule, did everything slowly.
But then, if you’re lucky,
You’d grow to be as old as me.
Yes, with back aches and knees that are knobbly,
Maybe unable to stand straight with a walking stick so you sit and she keeps you company,
Like me.
Now that my eyes are rheumy, I can’t see naturally...
No, don’t be sorry.
My best friend is here again with me
And she’s helping me to see things that, on my own, I cannot.
Now, I can picture spider threads as they spin.
I can see the gossamer of a butterfly’s wings.
I can see the tail of a tadpole grow shorter.
I can see the veins on the petals of a flower.
I can see a turtle peeking,
A congaree unfurling,
I can count fractions of a second between the firefly’s blinking.
I can see exhaustion,
It’s like a cream that now sticks to my skin.
I can see my friends who crossed over,
Just across the border waiting.
I can see them, but they’re patient because I’m still here with you.
I’ve still got a job to do.
I’ve still got lessons to share with you.
I’ve still got to get you to shake my friend’s hand… Patience.
I’ve still got to teach you to understand… Patience.
So sit with me, my dear, let’s look together at the sun’s parting signature across the sky,
And maybe I’d be able to show you the golden tip of time’s wing as it flies,
As I teach you the art of taking things one day at a time,
Appreciating every morning, breathing slowly in and out before it’s too late,
Before you reach for Patience and she’s gone and instead you find that you have a final date with her brother, Fate.
Thank you for reading, my friends, and for sharing this moment with me.
Today's poem was inspired by a very important lesson that I’ve had to learn during the pandemic and as a creative in general: to be patient because some things take time, and to learn to relax and appreciate simple things along the way.
I hope you connected with this message and enjoyed it as well. 😊