Reflections at Forty-Nine: Life, Loss, and Hope
Exploring the profound themes of mortality and aging through the contrasting life spans of the speaker’s grandmothers, this poem delves into personal reflections and the universal quest for longevity; offering a contemplative look at life’s inevitable progressions.
49
My father’s mother
died at forty-nine
the same age I am now.
My other grandmother
made it to ninety-four,
which does give me hope
I’m not done yet, as they say.
But I do know, going forward
there will be more funerals
than weddings.
© 2020 - Matthew S. Spira
(NOTE: The poem, as all my poems, is 100% human-generated by me. Well, 99.99% me; I quote a letter to the editor from 1771 in a poem.)
