she looked at me, eyes bitter blue,
from far across the bed
she said, at night I speak the truths
I dare not say to any living soul —
my sincere thoughts on life
and what it is to be a breathing person
on this lush-green rock, this planet earth…
they say to live a life that’s whole and true
you must be honest with yourself,
but who are they? and what the fuck
do they know about sincerity in
this world of fabrication, this tunnel
that makes liars of us all…
she went on, with musing tones,
what if we’re only honest
when the sun goes down? what if
reality only starts slithering
when no one has the patience
to gaze upon it?
who hears my voice
when I whisper to the blackened sky?
of secrets and of who I choose to love
and who I can’t help but hate…
I don’t know,
she rejoices, the birds of the morning are lovely,
but they signal another
burdensome day
of toil and restlessness
and unrecognized effort
and unrewarded failures,
of cruel debts
and unjust scorn,
we hear the tired phrase echo
from day to day,
don’t get old, our elders say,
always with that lively little sarcastic sway,
but truth be told, that doesn’t leave us
many options
Garbage Notes:
This poem starts out with the observation that human beings tend to have a difficult time being honest. With ourselves, with others. Especially during the day. And most definitely when there’s an audience or when our reputations are at stake.
The truth tends to come out when we’re compromised. When we need help. When it’s dark and scary. When we realize how great we have it, and then the fear sets in that if we continue being insincere, we’ll be a risk of losing it. We are a loss averse species.
At the same time, however, there are certain kinds of people who espouse honesty at all costs, and say that to be whole, you must always be up-front and true. But that fails to recognize our common imperfection, our inherent frailty.
It also fails to acknowledge the blatant falsehoods and contradictions that exist all around us. Our world is very fake and many things that seem real are actually intentionally counterfeit. And if it’s true that people are a product of their environments. That would mean that it’s inevitable that this rampant deception will at times rub off on us.
As the poem rounds out, it confronts one of the biggest lies of all, that it’s possible to outpace time itself. That somehow we can live longer and maximize the time we get to spend being smart, beautiful, rich, powerful—you name it.
If it’s something worth having, we want it for longer and forever. But that’s not possible. To think we are exempt from the great equalizer—time itself—then we must be under a great delusion.
Aging is part of life. Our bodies and our minds break down—it’s built into the cold hard math of the universe. Entropy is unavoidable. So when people laugh and joke and say things like—whatever you do, don’t get old—on the one hand, we know they’re being facetious, but at the same time, a part of us can’t help but think, shit, you’re right, I never want to be like that.
I never want to lose my mind or have my tummy get flabby or lose my luscious beautiful hair or get hair in my ears or lose my sex drive or lose the ability to walk or stand or pick things up or run for long periods of time. These are all the things that we obsess over. But all of this stuff, as hard as we can work to maintain it, will never be the same as it once was in youth.
Sure, there’s something to be said about not yielding to time so easily. It’s a beautiful thing to live long and exercise and stay healthy and keep a young spirit. I’m not saying let’s not do this stuff. But what this poem is saying, is that there’s a peace and an acceptance and a refreshing honesty that can come with acknowledging the truth of who we are—from facing the twilight head-on. So if you find yourself beginning to get old, as we all inevitably do, then it’s not a sin to embrace it.
Franco Amati 2024
If you enjoyed this piece, a paid subscription would be the best way to show your support. But if you aren’t ready for that sort of commitment yet, you can always send me a one-time donation on my Ko-fi page.
"if you find yourself beginning to get old, as we all inevitably do, then it’s not a sin to embrace it."
Of course! Only in the vacant world of consumer capitalism is 'age' considered a a penalty for living...
I am working on embracing and reframing the aging process because everything is aging all the time. It is simply a process that we humans have judged at some points”beautiful” and others less so. It is funny when someone recently commented on how fit I am and how good I look “for my age”. Bless his heart. Other young men have said, “Terra, age is just a construct.” They really don’t seem to care how old I am. I want to honor all of that. I am always in a process of birth and death. Currently I am with and learning from a lot of people much younger than me. And some older...although there are not as many of them around me lately. Most people seem to simply relate to me. I forget how old I am. I like it that way. I think there is no happy spot on the spectrum of time. When you are younger you want to be older to be more free. As you age you want to be seen and feel beautiful in a culture that says you have to be young to be those things...and wants us to buy buy buy the answer and resort to plastic surgery. But it is not easy to live differently from what everyone says is true and meaningful. Anyway, tonight I will go listen to some music and dance with mostly a lot of people younger than me. I will wear something pretty... that feels good and makes me feel free in my body.