WHERE WISDOM LIES (a little free verse)

October 12, 2025

I am that man, sitting on the bench.
My hair white and thinning,
No streaks of grey
Or my natural brown.
I am sad.

I am that old lady, in the grocery aisle.
My hair white and thinning,
No streaks of grey
Or my natural blonde.
I am sad.

My body moves slower now,
Fingers jerk when holding a pen,
Knees stiffen and feet tremble
When rising from my favorite chair,

Passing me, people smile.
“Cute old person” they think.
“Heard their stories a hundred times.”
Hurry past, smiling only, not stopping.

Overlooked, we are, old people.
Youth eager to prove wisdom,
Passionate in own pursuits.
Talking amongst themselves only.

I am here, we are here, observing.
At the table with you, and on the couch,
Holding generations of history,
Of life, of mistakes and successes.
Experience not found in books
Or podcasts, or anywhere.

Old lady that I am, I have lived
Through wars and peace.
Through protests and silences,
Through wealth and failures.
Through sickness and crisis.
Married, failed, fixed it.
Raised a family, managed a home.

Old man that I am, I have lived.
Fought in wars, cried in peace,
Knew silence and protests,
Succeeded and failed, weathered crisis,
Through sickness and health.
Married, failed, fixed it.
Raised a family, paid the bills.

Universities lecture, books weave theories
Philosophers ponder, podcasters recruit.
Churches preach, writers put words to paper.
Persuaders they are; triumphant,
Before decades of learning and living.
All before experiencing
All telling before living.

Old folks, we lived history.
We were there! Every day of it!
With emotion, fear, victory, tears!
Survived it, learned from it.
Those are our stories.
Time brings perspective
Hidden in the heart of old history,
Hidden in the hearts of old people