The Longevity of a Grimace
Grimaces take hold but it’s nearly impossible to say for how long.
How far we’ve come yet the grimace stays stationary as a fixture
within the renovations of our own youth.
We’re mirrored up constantly without pieces of glass anywhere in sight.
Who needs the glass when we’ve got the loud subtlety of those eyes looking back at us,
racing with thoughts we’ve somehow yet to conquer ourselves.
The biggest difference between us and them, it seems, is that they’re at least still asking
how to change the outcome.
Us? It appears we gave it up long ago,
knifing the rope that latched the lifeboats tied to our own hearts.
We sat on the sands of the warm, neutral surrounding and watched
as the ideals and high-horse stances were sent adrift,
meandering about for someone else to grasp.
Locking our arms together and basking in the quiet light of an unused day,
we closed our eyes and knew that everything was as good as it could be.
It’s Always the Light
Maturing or
Receding?
Receding or
Maturing?
The time spent in front of the mirror mirrors that of youth, only this time I’ve convinced myself it’s more distinguishable. That’s the difference between youthful vanity and the compromises of adulthood, isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I can’t figure out if I’m asking whether it’s my hair that’s maturing or receding or if it’s me, my soul, and the capacity I feel to feel. Going on in years only naturally begs us to remember the lost minutes of nothingness that we reminisce about on those elongated summer nights when the sun seemingly won’t set, lingering to nearly ten o’clock while your kids try to sleep but can’t because of the light.
The light…
… it’s always the light.
Some days you wake up beyond your years, morning dew and fresh coffee filling the kitchen with something so sustainable that you get down the stairs just a little bit faster, eventually making your way to the garden and realizing we’re all just compost, packed around a structure of bones. Coffee in hand, I listen to the birds singing the hymns of their lives, unified and dignified as they call to the everlasting light.
Jake Lane‘s poems focus on examining themes of identity, memory, death, time, and humans’ relationships to each other and the world around them. Three of his poems debuted in the Spring 2024 edition of The Writing Disorder. He lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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