time travel, then, is key –
go backwards in slow motion.
Rip apart your shroud, escape
your grave. Reappear to friends
when old tears have dried.
When memories tremble, loosened
years of separation, break
back in –
first on stiff, arthritic limbs
with faltered heartbeats
staccato nerves followed by
as knees fold curtsies to Kali.
Do not despair, old age will not restrain you.
In sleep, your prime beckons once more,
peak powers restored. Skin and tissues
pulse steady, strong,
soon, you will love once more.
may our goddess bless your dreams
and tears of joy complete your metamorphosis.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Ceinwen Haydon
would be pleased to hear them.