Age Sings the Music of Bones

I wrote this poem in response to a collage/piece I did in the visual journal for the crew guy I work with. I wish [I WISH] I had a scanner and could upload the collage, but the poem also stands alone, for me.


Age sings the music of bones,
pared down, finally, from
the flesh of
so many unanswered questions,
uncertainty & hesitation,
self-consciousness,
inexperience, & fear,

to a skeleton of
honed realities framing
simply-shaped dreams,
fewer, more fine & focused,
knit together by
purpose,
risks-taken,
self-awareness &
hard-won answers.

Bones rattle a more pure song --
fewer chords, perhaps,
but a stronger melody,
& at last in the
brave key of
me.

L. Antonia Brown
08/26/07
8:45 a.m.