Occasional Impressions

Gemini 3

To my Grandmother

You have reduced your life to this one cell,
As if to end your days in discipline;
In another age you might have taken the veil.

Our joys you comprehend but distantly.
Withdrawing from all experience, politeness only remains,
And a vast, mortal tiredness.

You who willed so much find your will impotent.
Rage and love, close friends, no longer carry you;
You rest, eyes fixed on a dearer horizon.

We, who are still so strong, are not good friends with Death,
But you, in your self-imposed Lent,
Wait for the sun to dance on Easter morn.

Before our eyes the patient change takes place,
Nothing being quite smooth or without pain,
But eloquent, renunciatory;

And from your life’s discarded chrysalis
A fragile thing is born, not yet beautiful,
But gathering each moment strength for flight.

jeh

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