My Lived-in Face
A life well-lived
Has left its mark
On my face.
You can read it
Like a map
Of the places
I’ve been,
Of the feelings
That have crossed
My being—
My inner and outer life
Converging.
I see the shadow
Of sorrow
And troubled sleep
Dancing
Around my eyes.
The interplay
Of worry and surprise
Embedded in my
Furrowed brow.
The twin mirrors
Of joy
Framing my mouth
And fanning
The grief
Out of my eyes.
Why would I erase
All trace
Of my history?
I choose
A face well lived-in
Over one devoid
Of emotion,
Too scared to smile
For fear of creasing the skin.
Oh twisted minds,
Why do we
Live life backwards,
Squandering the present,
Lamenting a youth
Taken for granted
When lived?
Is the waning moon
Less worthy
Than a waxing orb?
The ebbing tide
Less beautiful
Than flowing waves?
Can one exist
Without the other?
When did we forget
To honor
The cycles of life
And death?
To celebrate
The lines
That speak of
A life well-lived?
I send silent thanks
To the Nepali elders
Who showed me
Another way
When they beamed
Toothless smiles
That made their
Wizened faces
Ripple with joy