poem

Pictured is Kat Everitt herself as a young woman.

 

once, we were young for a long time, fortune willing! 

we were more beautiful than we knew, and thought 

(wrongly - who knew!) that every thing was destined, 

should we do decent and work at it all, to be Great! 

we knew all the smells, feelings, bodily whims and 

whistles of hopes and dreams! wishes were horses, 

and we did ride, beggars and royalty alike, more so 

equal than not, that we knew little shame - in the 

main: we knew hope. we were convinced that we 

had forever in our pockets, all evidence to contraire.

with élan and moxie and pretend and real and intense

and sorrow and joy and loves and hates and appetites

and opinions-without-experiences, we ruled our own

earths of our imagined nations, and, assumed heart

beats that knew all along how many were truly left. 

now, in age, we remember once and wonder at the 

numbers of beats of heart we have left splashing 

about in our older chests. I wouldn’t trade ‘now’ for 

being young. still, every cell in me sighs, remember?

remember when kisses were like honey? remember

the rains, the snows? remember how sunshine did

delight you? remember, once?....