Journal Poem #3

For We Write Poems poetry prompt #202: Journal Poem

prayer at dawn

Journal Poem #3

refused to consider old age process

denied it
gray area
rolling in like fog
off a North Wisconsin lake

No sound, solid wall of substance

Suddenly inside,
can not see more than two feet
nothing except muted murmurs

feeling one has stepped
off edge of known world
into another dimension

changes all senses
makes them seem untrustworthy

need for something
to hang onto
yet know it isn’t there


feel fear and tension rise slowly
try to damp it down
with logic
but fog isn’t logical
it just is

like aging.

Elizabeth Crawford  3/2/14

Notes: Continuing with the WWP prompt of finding poem in journal entries. This is taken from a page dated 12/10/94. Was staring the Big 50 in the face and trying to come to terms with the fact that I was getting old and couldn’t deny it anymore. This was the first half of that entry. The other half is a close look at what I was learning from two extremely good role models. The first, an active gentleman turning 80 who was still working every day. The second, a woman of about 65 who was joyfully exploring the freedom of becoming “invisible” since turning 60. I learned a great deal from both of them. The image is a digital painting titled Prayer at Dawn.

About 1sojournal

Loves words and language. Dances on paper to her own inner music. Loves to share and keeps several blogs to facilitate that. They can be found here:
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4 Responses to Journal Poem #3

  1. I love the image and its beautiful title. And so resonate with your words here, Elizabeth. I also relate to your friend enjoying having become invisible. It does afford the freedom, I have found, to just be oneself. I love the lines “rolling in like fog off a Wisconsin lake” and the stepping into another dimension. Perfect capture of the aging process.


  2. Irene says:

    Like how you related old age with “fog
    off a North Wisconsin lake”.


  3. Love this “but fog isn’t logical it just is like aging”


  4. I was born in Milwaukee. I know what that fog looks like. 🙂

    But I think I understand how you mean it in this poem. My 20 year high school reunion is just around the corner, and I’m wondering where the time went. I don’t seem to have a concept of my aging until I am confronted with its manifestation in something like the class reunion….or seeing the parenthesis around my lips in a recent video I recorded…or seeing how with long hair I start to look more like my mother. I guess for me, it isn’t fog: it’s a sudden switching on of the light and seeing the truth for what it is.


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