My eyes can’t see as well anymore,
but my heart sees all the better.
My ears have begun to fail me,
but I hear the quiet budding of success.
I move more slowly now
but have learned to be still with myself.
I ache and hurt, I’m stiff and sore,
but my spirit’s never felt so fine.
My memory is slipping,
but I’ve got a firm grip on what it is to live.
My head is going gray,
but I’ve found all my true colors.
I get out of bed earlier,
but still I have plenty of dreams.
I live more softly
but don’t back down from doing hard things.
My teeth are artificially getting replaced,
but my soul is real and all my own.
My bones are brittle,
but my resolve is strong.
I no longer bounce back,
but I still look forward.
I tell the same stories over and again,
but still I’m new every day.
I’m nearer to the end,
yet I’ve only just begun.
—Terri Guillemets