LOSS OF INNOCENCE

LOSS OF INNOCENCE

A loss of innocence,
And of a childlike, blithe spirit,
Happened before it ever could develop.
I grew old while still in a child's body;
Being an adult for the world's eyes was all I knew.

Although my muse is not great,
I accept the eldering weight as its price.
A past unfixable, at least in part
Although acceptance of that lessens not
Newly felt and recognized pains of loss.
Was I born old? Perhaps, but that's not all.
Was I made old? There's truth there, certainly.
Truth unfixable, immutable, I fear.
An elderhood written too deeply, too indelibly,
To be washed out or even buffed away.

So I stare at houses on late-night walks
Without much bitterness, but with sadness and wondering,
Wondering what normality is like -
And believing I will never fully know.

Steve Snyder
Jan. 20, 2002

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