Gone Before I Left

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Gone Before I Left

~

I now move in the world unseen
I am transparent
a fading glimpse
caught in the darkened corner
of an ever dimming eye

where once I blocked the sun
I am but a shadow
moving between shadows
at the edge of light
without form

once a voice
that thundered ‘cross the distance
gripped every ear to listen
in so doing was well heard
now hardly but a whisper

my footsteps
shook the ground in passing
now leave but faint a trace
barely form and then are gone
as if I’ve never been

yet here I am
worn thin and weary
not strength to hold the hands of time
not sound to bid a fair goodbye
quickly disappearing

dissolving into the dust of age
gone before I’ve left

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2019

“Comment on western society’s diminishment of their elders.”

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  • Check out more invisibility at dVerse:
    Poetics: Invisible

  • 36 thoughts on “Gone Before I Left”

      1. Yes Bjorn, western society’s practice of Agism worsens, especially in government. The programs, so necessary for so many of we elders over 70, are undersiege by the man in the hairy orange asshat, and his greedy heartless cronies. Soon the badtards will just put us out on the ice to die.

      1. Thank you Jane! Western civilization has historically devalued the main body of their population with quite likely the most to offer when it comes to wise council – but wise council went out the window for the sake of faster, bigger, more! And now our society, even the planet, is begining to suffer from this irresponsible impatience. To quote Ian Malcolm, our societty has become “so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should!” The patience of historical hindsight is a great tool of wisdom our elders can offer – but it is shoved under the table by “PROGRESS“.

    1. This seems to be a theme for this post–the invisibility of the elderly. Your poem expresses so beautifully the change for a vibrant person who thundered to one “worn thin and weary
      not strength to hold the hands of time” –and that’s such a lovely verse.

      1. Thanks Merill, and such a sad situation for this world spinning into madness. We are like lemmings rushing to our extinction, into the sea of irresponsible greed and progress!

    2. This is a powerhouse of a poem, brother; written brilliantly for we that inhabit the winter of our days. Your title looms large, filling the outdoor screen at a Drive-In. Both you and I were performers, very visible. Last year I had panic attacks as my disability robbed me of more and more of my liberty and ambulation; no more open mics, or appearing in plays, or taking hikes, or travel to exotic lands; lashed to wheels on flat dun horizons; with only my poetry and photography left in my lexicon. When my artist grandfather complained of his pains in his 80’s, I remember telling him, “Fuck it; faced with this reality, then paint your pain”–and he did; and now you and I do.

      1. Thank you Glenn, I am so glad, and at the same time sad, that this poem resonates for you so. I know you get it, big time. I have alwayd felt a kinship, a brother from another mother, since we both started sharing and reading our poetry. I am not clear if we first crossed paths on Dana Guthry’s Poetry Thursdsy site or if it was Tess Kincaid’s Magpie Tales – but I think it was one or perhaps both of those. Listen Glenn, Father Time is doing his damned best to try to grind us down – but FUCK HIM! We still have our active creative minds, and our ambulatory wheels, and now I got my pacemaker… so fuck old pater time!! You and I will rage on as long as we can still see the keyborad, and our fingers allow us to make our art. Rage on Glenn! Peace!

      1. Thank you Jade, I am thrilled to be here. That old pater time has tried to beat me down, but still I rage on. Hell, the battery in my recently embedded pacemaker still has 7+ years before it needs changing, do I am gonna run it down with purpose… 🙂

    3. How sad when we just remain invisible in the eyes of others. Really like this part:

      I am but a shadow
      moving between shadows
      at the edge of light
      without form

      1. Glad you like this Grace. It is sad, but I intend to cast as long a shadow as possible for as lông as I possibly can. Got plenty of charge left in my pacemaker and I continue pedaling my way through cardiac rehad – so look out world…! 🙂

    4. Rob you have done well on this one… Gone before we are gone… It happens so often.
      I love this line… where once I blocked the sun
      I am but a shadow

      Into obscurity we go… and get there before we leave!

      1. It is wonderful. As long as we eyes to see the keyboard, and fingers to work the keys, we still rage on – and I for one will have it no other way, nor should you brother Dwight! It is for the wise and learned to seek us out and hear:-)

      1. Thank you Sanaa! I appreciate the glowing compliment… 🙂 Once I had the concept aligned in my mind the words for this one flowed readily. It is very personal to me so I did not have to dig too deeply for the well of inspiration.

    5. Isn’t it a commentary on the state of our society that we disappear as we age? We both know this is not true, for age brings wisdom, and look at all we share here, and yet, in a crowd….

      1. Yes, VJ, after a certain age, the young see the weathering, but do not understand the tempering of the experience and wisdom that has occurred as a result. But, if I am honest, growing up influenced by western civilization, I didn’t fully appreciate my elders. I appreciate elders now that I am one. Better late than never I suppose… 🙂

      1. Thank you Truedessa. Most of we elderly are filly alive inside our weathered vehicle, but as VJ commented so astutely – in a crowd we are often invisible, or certainly any possibility of our having a vital contribution, disappears. Sad commentary on western civilization.

      1. To the world I inhabited for 30 years of my career, I am no longer relevant. A number of my closest friends are gone. My health is gone. I live with an electronic device keeping my heart beating, and one plugged into my arm, monitoring my blood sugars, that I have to change every 14 days, in order to stay alive. The me that was me moving through the world in general, is essentially gone now. It is a very strange realization.

        But, there is a new me that moves physically in a much smaller world and primarily writes poetry, and creates art – and through these vehicles, reaches out non-physically and touches a very broad world, in small increments. The macro-me is gone, but there is a micro-me that hasn’t left yet. It is from within that framework of my perspective that this poem came to be.

        OK, that was very ethereal. Sorry if I freaked you out Kim. I go off on philosophical tangents at times. I enjoy reading Lao Tsu’s Tao Te Ching, so I am drawn to the esoteric view of life. All that said, I am glad this poem resonated for you. 🙂

    6. I am but a shadow
      moving between shadows
      at the edge of light
      without form

      love this section Rob, like Philip Pullman and his Dark Matter pieces, it was gripping and also liberating

      1. I am pleased you enjoyed it Gina. I know well and really enjoy, the movie of Pullman’s “The Golden Compass”. I have it on BluRay DVD. I have not read any of his other works though. I feel I must do that now. 🙂

    7. This seems to be a feeling much with those of us who are aging. What happened to my mother…and here I am, walking the same well-worn path. You’ve expressed it beautifully. (K)

      1. Thank you Sara! I genuinely appreciate the kind words. I lived large much of my life. Touring regionally with several Midwestern rock bands in the 60’s and 70’s. Then in the 80’s and 90’s, having a number of my custom home theater designs featured in national design and architecture publications. Finally ending my career as part of George Lucas’s Lucasfilm LTD group. When my first heart attack started my health decline, and eventually put me out of the game, in medical retirement – it hit me really hard. With the passage of time, many of my band mates, long-standing business associates, and many of my friends fell away – the result of age, health, and even death. It took me a long time to deal with feeling irrelevant. Now at 72, and my mobility challenged, I feel, from time to time, I have vanished. When I am in public, I am now part of the invisible elders. That is the crux of this poem.

    8. Emotive write, Rob. I really like the phrase, “where once I blocked the sun I am but a shadow”. And the title/final line is brilliant! You’re making your presence known here yet 🙂

      1. Thank you Lynn. Writing again, after several years of poor health, has done so much to improve my attitude. I can thank my pacemaker, and excellent cardiac care, for being able to write again.

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