Jody Murad Curley
We say we are holding on
as days turn into weeks.
When months become years,
it's clear we are losing our grip.
We dine out at fast food spots
where no tip is expected.
We wear glasses with outdated scripts,
shoes with tired old soles.
We agree no home improvements
will improve us.
We cancel vacations to places we love
so that we might pay our taxes.
We try to save for retirement.
We don't retire.
We visit our faraway kids electronically.
We work with our losses pragmatically.
We speak of our aging philosophically.
We grow ever more radical politically.
We keep working.
And while we hear how good we have it
from the ones who buy and sell that story,
we've been left behind
breathing someone's dust.
Jody Murad Curley is a Madison native who reads and writes poetry when she is not teaching T'ai Chi Ch'uan, wandering the natural beauty of Wisconsin, serving as an interfaith minister, consulting as a dementia care specialist, appreciating her husband's piano compositions, and attempting to meet the nuanced needs of her two cats.