Does age give us grace, or do we surrender into it ourselves?
And when we get that grace, is it a blessing
or is it a tool?
Whatever you’re looking for, it won’t come now.
Not in the long-lasting beginning.
I want to not want and maybe someday
when I’ve stopped wanting,
every item I ever wrote
on my Christmas wish list
will show up on my doorstep.
And you, you’ll come knocking on my door.
Bridget Malley is a poet and writer living in the Pittsburgh area. She has been published in RUNE and Eye Contact, with forthcoming publication in Uppagus.
Categories: Poetry
Tags: aging, Bridget Malley, Christmas, grace, love, Wanting
Melancholy Hyperbole 
Reblogged this on cjheries.
Nice poem. I often wish that the same thing will happen to me.