When it comes to the subject of aging…

That’s the main wondering when it comes to the subject of aging :
What am I gonna lose,
What first ?
I don’t wanna lose this,
Whether it’s hair, vision, hearing, all sort of natural abilities,
Whether it’s beauty, grace, silhouette, muscles, good shape.
And in the meantime, while you’re so busy measuring your physical loss,
What you’re losing is soul, spirit, basic human qualities,
Your morals and values, your critical mind,
Your wits and humour, your gifts and guidance…

That is the most common trap in our focus on aging,
Hence how the process runs actually :
When you’re all about the flesh, all about the senses,
There is so much more missing that you don’t even realize is gone.
Then you lose your self and personality,
As the body fades inescapably.

I need you all.

It’s a shiny July afternoon,
And I finally settle at my usual spot,
In the « Jardin de l’Abbaye »,
On that big stone ledge,
Over a generous row of flowers…

At a short distance, I witness that very simple scene
Of what I presume to be a grand-mother and her grand-son,
Gently savouring a pack of biscuits.
Surely what a tender view…
I might be mistaken though,
Could be a different type of relation ;
And the boy’s not so young,
More like a twelve-year-old.

I don’t give’em much of attention
Until I realize that I could play, or precisely couldn’t,
Both parts of their situation.
It’s not a question of gender, nor chocolate biscuits ;
This is about sharing a special link,
More than just a bloodline.

And now I’m musing on the uniqueness of their relationship,
And how important it must be, assuredly to this woman,
Even more to this boy,
That sweet looking clumsy boy…
Then I reflect on the subject of otherness, and how long,
How old for a child,
Does it take to conceive how many more humans live on earth
Than his relatives and friends.

I mean, not just on paper,
But fully realizing for the first shocking time
The multitudes of complete strangers out there,
When you only get to know so few of them.
That scaring fascinating sensation that anything is possible ;
Life is so vast,
But then you feel quite reassured
To be on summer holidays
Eating biscuits with your grandma.
_ well, perhaps his god-mother in fact.

It’s a shiny July afternoon,
Now the sunlight strikes a bit harder ;
And I am no schoolboy anyway,
Nor his grandma either,
And I’m hungry for love and otherness
Like I never was maybe…
But you don’t feed me on chocolate biscuits anymore.
I need the flesh,
I need the spirit
I need you

I need you all.