I wrote this poem as I watched Grandma Pat Kelley slowly lose the abilities she once carried so effortlessly. It made me think of so many of my elderly friends who seem to be pushed aside as younger generations take their place. Yet their worth hasn’t faded. Like a lamp in the corner that still holds light, they remain full of wisdom, memory, and quiet brilliance just waiting for someone to notice, to value, and to gently draw out the glow that’s still there.
At the same time, I’ve come to see that part of our role is to step back and allow the younger ones to walk the paths we’ve already walked. They need room to learn the lessons we’ve gained, to grow through their own experiences, and to discover their own light. But even as they rise, the older generation still shines not in the center of the room anymore, but as a steady, faithful glow that continues to guide, remind, and bless.
Not quite what it use to be.
But if touched just right
With gentlest of care
The illumination is at hand to see.
But who will take a moment
For this piece left behind
When others have taken its place?
For beauty and style
Seem to be the attraction
Not the memories that once filled that space.
So quietly it sits
In the midst of the new
Broken and bruised by time past.
Collecting only dust
To warm it’s wintry soul
And praying for the end at last.
Just one little touch
That is all it would take
To receive the lamps glorious light.
But so many have forgotten
The brightness that was gained
By one who has vision and sight.