I am rusty. Rusty with dis-use and rusty with age. I am rusty in places I probably won't even see for another decade or two...if I'm lucky. I think those patches come in like a tide washing up on shore. I've walked those beaches and carried home the treasures found there. It's true though, not all that glitters is gold, and I've carried the heavy tingles of what those waves left behind. The fact is, I carry them still. Over the years I've developed a certain coppery patina, a crust if you will. Maybe there's even a few holes in some places. I'm not complaining. Heaven forbid. I've become rather accustomed to the baggage I've created, my impedimenta, my trappings, my back pack full of tricks. This beautiful life I carry.
Shedding and gathering as I go I've discovered that life is a process. Because, I've had to drop things along the way you know. I'm sure as hell not as strong as I once thought I was. Even the air itself turns out to have had a certain amount of pressure and over time these things build up. They consume, they engrave, they eat away at. There have been times when I've had to lighten my load. I'd like to be able to say that I've chosen the things I dropped with great care. But, the truth is, much of it has just rusted away.
Maybe I would have let go of somethings sooner if I'd known. I would have let go of certain people sooner and not carried them for quite so long. Honestly though, when I look closely in the waning light of day, I understand now that we carried each other. I, even I myself, have allowed the rust to accumulate. I haven't always been diligent enough.
I am bent over at times now. There are areas which are corrupted.
Much of which is my own doing. I've carried my own salt shaker.
Learning and experience are an oxidation. And like a nice white wine I've lost some freshness. I have dark places.
Life, when lived well, leaves us exposed.
I know this isn't really a poem. I'm not sure it is exactly what the rules for poetry jam call for. But, I like it. So, I'm keeping it. All apologies for breaking/bending/distorting the rules. I do that from time to time. I'll be better next time.
Also, I am re-learning the rules of writing. Poetry is great because no rules are so artistic and even when there are rules, they are easy to follow. It's been a very long time since I've written prose and I have a goal of figuring it out again. I suppose you could say I'm scrubbing the rust off.
imaginary garden with real toads
oh nice confession in carrying our own salt shaker, dont let that wiegh you down though, you can always start letting go...and life is def a process...and i own my rust...smiles.ReplyDelete
What a wonderful descriptive analysis of your travels through life. Beautifully written. Like how you use the word "oxidation." In reality that is life. -- barbaraReplyDelete
I found that what you wrote was an echo of how I often feel!. I personally like the patina so maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself either. Aging is something that has never been a problem for me. I can't control it! BUT....Im finding that I hate having to admit that I am not as quick as I use to be... that I can not put in 12.5 hour days for weeks on end without feeling exhausted and worn out. Perhaps I have learnt to slow down and enjoy the journey more rather then worry about the destination!ReplyDelete
I've developed a certain coppery patina, a crust if you will...ReplyDelete
Oh, I love that and "manifest plainness embrace simplicity reduce selfishness" - a great rule to live by.
I like this very much. I think we all carry too much at times, and it takes a while to learn what to leave behind. Sometimes the rust builds up a while until we finally shed what we need to. One thing about the rust of life....one has to be forever diligent, I think. Always watchful of the buildup.ReplyDelete
Nice to see you in Poetry Jam!!
Hey, anything goes at the jam... and I love where you went with this... it's so heartfelt... especially:ReplyDelete
Honestly though, when I look closely in the waning light of day, I understand now that we carried each other
Thank you for sharing these thoughts on the often wearisome passage of growing older.ReplyDelete
I think we all asquire a coppery patina somewhere along the way...ReplyDelete
Poetry is what gurgles up from the soul, heart ~~ and your piece does just that.ReplyDelete
I really like this. Poetry and prose are so often intertwined, and that's as it should be. There really aren't any rules.ReplyDelete
This contains a message I needed to hear this morning. Thank you.
Didn't seem too rusty to me.ReplyDelete
very spontaneous...nice write up
I enjoyed reading this and think it is presented well as it is. Good job with rust and things carried! thanks for participatingReplyDelete
I love this and it reads like poetry to me:) I so resonate with "this beautiful life I carry", our backpacks, and the things we have to let go of. A wonderful write, and I am so happy you posted it here so we can enjoy it.ReplyDelete
What a wonderful piece...and yes it does read as poetry.Life does leave us with rust and as a photographer I find rusted things fascinating. Love your ending!ReplyDelete
it was a wonderful, honest pieceReplyDelete
I felt that burden growing and oxidizing
I was taught many moons ago that the rules are meant to be broken
so nice to meet you and be refreshed by your writing
Being exposed is what it is all about, you have to feel pain before you know love. Wonderful piece from the heart.ReplyDelete
Love this wisdom and honesty:ReplyDelete
Maybe I would have let go of somethings sooner if I'd known. I would have let go of certain people sooner and not carried them for quite so long. Honestly though, when I look closely in the waning light of day, I understand now that we carried each other.
authentically voiced, and poetry is as you do it ~ MReplyDelete
"I've developed a certain coppery patina," that stayed with me through the entire poem er... prose. :) Nice.ReplyDelete
i don't care if it's poetry or not - it's a good read and it rings true...ReplyDelete
Letting go can free us to live in the present...rust and all!ReplyDelete
I enjoyed this personal write, we all have my rusty bits and really loved the last line.ReplyDelete
Wonderful run through of life's choices. Rusting is a change, a progressive development. Even neglected it still goes through with certain changes! Nicely!ReplyDelete
I like it too! Very much :-) nice word choices and analogies, liked that one contrasting white wine with dark places, and that confession that not all things you dropped were chosen with care, that is so true--nicely done:-)ReplyDelete