Lament, Of Change Poem by Geraldine Moorkens Byrne

I do not embrace change.
At this stage in my life,
ebbing away inexorably
from girlhood to middle-age
avoiding much of womanhood between;
no, I do not embrace change
I remain a constant, both dull and loyal
the rock from which is launched
other people’s dreams.

I would embroider me one of those samplers;
Victoriana in its purest form -
I am lost and found, unclaimed property
and I cannot find a place like home.
I would place a candle in the window
if you had not made it clear
your journeying is not done and I
cannot follow nor expect your return.
Friendship it seems, has its limits.

Glass and paste and glitter -
I thought it was a long and fruitful path
but barren fields surround me
and I am not accepting of this failure.
My refusal to make merry at this wake
has sealed my fate, in your eyes I have become
a burden. I would be light-hearted if I could
but I cannot play that role.
You sliced deep, you struck home.

Nor will I play the part you wrote for me,
of spinster friend, empty of hope
pulling you back. Or have I already
unconsciously adopted this disguise?
What a thought! Tainting every memory
of companionship. Breeding insecurity
all too easy as a single woman of uncertain age
Ah, one cannot write a friendship while alive.
It needs death to sanctify it.