Continental Divide
Handcuffed by time,
I travel across this broad
beautiful America-
mesas, deserts,
peaks with clouds caught
upon them,
the Continental Divide
where a dropp of rain
must decide
whether to roll east or west
like the rest of us.
I speak to a group
of avid, aging Californians
about daring to embrace
the second half of life.
The passions of the old
are deeper
than any wells
the young can plumb.
Meanwhile, you are dying
in New York Hospital-
your beautiful face drained
of blood,
your arms too heavy
to seize the day,
your shining eyes
dimmed by pain
& drugs to dull it.
You have boycotted food,
yet all you can do is apologize
to your grieving children
for the trouble you cause
by dying.
'Don't worry, I'm fine,'
you say, eternal mother.
Solitary as you will ever be,
our love cannot save you
from this last loneliness,
this last sea voyage
where no one
dresses for dinner.
[...] Read more
poem by Erica Jong
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