i love the freedom
of my advancing years.
i speak my mind,
and
love without walls
i was young once,
what a lot of trouble that was.
wisdom grows from pain.
freedom is a gift
that you give to yourself
after the wounds of youth have healed.
(c) 2020 BGeiger
the flower is dying,
but there will be another,
the bush will continue
without her
i wonder
does she struggle to breathe?
is she fearful of the end?
growing older changes my perception of myself.
i feel much like her,
faded, colorless,
and often, extraneous.
i do not want to be gone from my own life,
but that is vain
we will all fade from view.
it is how we are remembered
that saves our place in the garden.
(c) 2020 BGeiger
I walk here every day.
The hill is steep for my old knees, but I persist.
I will smell the water,
before my feet even reach the deep, cool shade
of the little oasis beside the road.
It feels like visiting an old friend.
There are always birds here,
and small critters I can hear, and imagine,
but not see.
I whisper to the trees, grateful for their constancy.
I reach out to low hanging branches
touching their tender leaves with my fingertips and my breath.
It feels like a kiss
and i hold it softly to me as i walk past.
I walk this hill to touch my universe,
to experience life in its many forms.
I walk this hill for me,
for my soul much more than for my body.
(c) 2020 BGeiger
my life was scream
trapped
in a nightmare.
it was never going to get better
the only cure
was to leave
it took years
and days
and hours
and some very long moments
but my dreams are peaceful now
my heart is calm
and I don’t miss the terror
not even a little
(c) 2020 BGeiger
we want time,
and time,
and more time, to what end?
will we die happier if we live a long life
or if we live gratefully
for temporary things,
love, kinship, a smile, eyes that truly see
look at the trees,
i doubt they complain about the years they don’t have.
it seems enough to stretch their branches toward the sun,
to witness thunder and soak up fresh drops of rain,
to stand tall without demanding eternity.
breathe in the beauty and strength of the trees,
endlessly renewing, shedding the old and moving on.
it is the way of the universe.
we live, we grow old, or not, and we die,
maybe we change form and shape and live again,
somehow or another
or maybe not
it doesn’t matter to me
one life is magical enough,
if i don’t waste it living in desperation and fear.
(c) 2020 BGeiger
Poetry moves the earth around the sun,
it shakes my soul and my being
from the shackles of sameness
into the ether,
where entire conversations take place
on a breath of wind.
(c) 2020 BGeiger
becoming older is simple
it sneaks up on you,
until it doesn’t
this beauty will also grow old,
crumple in upon herself
and lose her amazing petals,
which feel wooden to my careful touch
it is my joy to have witnessed her life
even as my aging body requires me to walk slowly enough to notice
thank goodness
do not allow your old age to be stolen from you
run
get out
your stuff isn’t worth it
don’t wait to leave until the day after he kills you
(c) 2020 BGeiger
dreaming out loud 