The motion of time passing
eerily silent and unseen on its own.
captivated by its own energy
its unfulfilled lust for speed.
the wretched taskmaster
never content to be, to just be
unwilling to stop and sit a spell.
no.
we don’t gain
even one moment’s pause…
we ask where the time went
the days, months, years.
yet we know.
we’ve experienced it over and over.
we’ve seen, smelled, and tasted it.
the sun rising and setting
the tide going in and out
leaves falling from the tree
buds sprouting through the snow
fragrant blossoms opening
babies learning to crawl,
walk, run, and off they go.
smooth skin turning saggy,
blond hair turning gray,
and my sharp-as-a-tack 97 year old mom
has commenced to asking
“what day is it?”
“what day is it?”
“what day is it?”
silent and unseen time in motion
continuing
.
.
.
without missing a beat…
~SueBee
My poem, and this small gallery of photos, reflect a journey our family has been traveling. The past weeks have been consumed by finding a new home for my 97 year old mom, closer to where most of us live in Orange, and closer to where we can share in caring for her. It’s been an emotional, exhausting experience for everyone. The retirement home wasn’t able to provide the care we wanted, or could afford, for her. The photos are of Kat walking her grandma down the hall of the retirement home where she’d happily resided the past 5 years, leaving it for the last time. I interpreted this week’s Photo Challenge, Motion, as the motion of time passing. ~SueBee
Superb interpretation
Thank you very much.