On Age and Ending Well

©2024 Susan Noyes Anderson

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My self-portrait, if made today,
would be on paper, not in clay.
An abstract, puzzling my eyes
in shapes I strain to recognize.

My soul tips slightly to and fro,
while things I think and things I know
evolve in ways I can’t define,
making it hard to call them mine.

I’ve always drawn with clean, sure lines,
secure in knowing my designs
were mine alone and true to me.
But lately, I sense mutiny.

Must aging prod this weakened hand
to brushstrokes I don’t understand?
I dreamed of wisdom, clarity.
I lived in peace; now I’m at sea.

New pieces of me form, then split.
Can self-portraits be retrofit?
Should golden years be like a test
of everything the heart knows best?

My thought that age was wisdom’s friend
may prove misguided in the end;
and yet, I hope this last exam
will make of me more than I am.

Lord, love and lead me till the day
when worldly things are swept away;
and all that’s left are lessons learned,
promises kept, and rest well-earned.

Well done, though good and faithful servant…
Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.
Matthew 25:21

If this poem resonated with you, you might also enjoy reading On Finishing Well, The Quandary, and When I’m Sixty-One.

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