.

The Faltering

In time the sharpest mind begrimes with rust
and memories are flaked from softened steel.
Beliefs once clutched and voiced in utter trust
now falter and befog in weakened zeal.
The brilliance once displayed now cracks like crust
and any efforts to reheal unseal.
The process always is unfair, unjust
and moves ahead no matter how we feel.

Yet in the messy yard sale of our mind
and failing parts and leakage of the frame,
that which is lost reveals a simpler core—
a trusting grasp of those still near and kind
a sense of wonder at a losing game
a thanks for almost all that came before.

.

.

Ed Ahern resumed writing after forty odd years in foreign intelligence and international sales. He’s had about 500 stories and poems published so far, and ten books. Ed works the other side of writing at Bewildering Stories where he manages a posse of seven review editors, and as lead editor at Scribes Micro.

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9 Responses

  1. Deborah

    Touching, tender poignancy. No mockery. No malice. A beautiful take on a bewildering dx.

    Reply
  2. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Your poem elicits a strong inner response to many cherished hopes and dreams that now seem to vanish before our eyes and minds.

    Reply
  4. James A. Tweedie

    Ed,

    Beauty always follows form. And this gem has both in abundance.

    Reply
  5. Cynthia Erlandson

    Beautiful and moving. And the metaphor you use of flaking rust and cracking crust holds the poem together while its imagery describes the mind falling apart. “Any efforts to reheal unseal” is extremely clear visually. (And a great internal rhyme)

    Reply
  6. Rohini

    So moving and so exquisitely described. I particularly liked, “Yet in the messy yard sale of our mind
    and failing parts and leakage of the frame,
    that which is lost reveals a simpler core—” I feel this poem has so many layers I’ll need to read it several times.

    Reply
  7. Paul A. Freeman

    Some wonderful imagery and poignancy in this well-wrought sonnet.

    Thanks for the read, Ed.

    Reply
  9. Margaret Coats

    No faltering in this sonnet, Ed. Rather, observations precisely set in images that suit them, and if anything, a strengthened zeal in the final line of thanksgiving. Very well done.

    Reply

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