My Poetry

 

Published on Monday, June 11, 2018

My body won’t let me

My body won’t let me

 

This is not me you see.

I am not an old man with creaking joints and missing mind.

I can still run and jump,

play hockey and hit home runs, 

do long division in my head and run a retail business.

I know I can. 

But my body won’t let me. 

 

Now I need help to climb a flight of stairs.

Stress makes me vomit.

My sphincters give up cinching.

I soil my pants. 

I humiliate myself.

I can’t explain it.

I can’t explain anything.

I don’t even know why I’m here.

I wish I could die.

But my body won’t let me.

 

n Jim Taylor, May 2018

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Author: Jim Taylor

Categories: Poetry

Tags: aging, dying

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