A poem by Stewart Henderson

I have grown an old man’s skin
and it is good and fortunate and impermanent.
Lined now with stories, main features, and repeats;
a creased and creviced parchment
that will soon be rolled up
and tied with the knotted bow of completion.

And after that… I’m banking on…
the expansion back, the return.
A wee galaxy travelling toward the single point,
the first radiation, the Light who did not know old age
or its confirmation of such in mirrors;
whose geography while here was arduous and limited,
a reduction beyond our knowing;
the Universe diminished, the overarching Lamb,
the impaled rainbow, the pinioned magnet of grace
who in still pools or gloss marble
in the right light of His Light saw all matter reflected back,
the nucleus and lineage of love.

I have grown an old man’s skin
as agelessness cavorts within.

 

The poem ‘I Have Grown An Old Man’s Skin’ is taken from
A Poet’s Notebook by Stewart Henderson
(Lion Hudson, 2018). Text copyright ©2018 Stewart Henderson.
Used with permission from Lion Hudson.

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This article was published in the October 2018 edition of  Reform

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