Mortality Noted

Everyone who was old when I was young
died years ago. Buildings are named after
men and women who bought me ice cream,
carried me across the street. Memories.
Memorials. Teddy Kennedy died last night,
the little brother who mourned his slain
big brothers. Called immature, impulsive,
He lived with his losses, his mistakes,
worked for ideals, spoke out, died alive.
Good night. Well done. As young lions
of my childhood die old lions, I feel my mortality ,
not the enemy, a reminder, increasingly familiar.

Victoria Hendricks, August 26, 2009