The nonagenarian once feared
for his sternness walks unsteadily,
each step directed by faith,
each fragile limb aware
that time has been generous.
The old man, brown-faced
from his days of wrestling with the sun,
looks thinner than in snapshots
of younger years.
The dye that veiled his age, abandoned,
a white crown celebrates longevity.
Photos of his wizened sagging face
are no longer clear images.
On the front-room walls
black and white prints
bear witness to the farmer,
doorman, store manager,
husband that he was and
great-grandfather that he is.
His siblings, ripe with illness and age,
have already fallen.
His firmly rooted family tree
has borne a fourth generation.
This family patriarch knows
his time is rationed,
has renounced his wild days,
has given way to reason and asks
that his children get closer to God.
He prays for their souls
utters words long restrained.
But the loving words
they have hungered for
jolt when they are heard.
And they, loath to disappoint,
carry his wishes in their hearts,
feel wisdom seeping into their veins,
feel prudence reining in the
recklessness of youth,
slowly become Gilberto.
© Althea Mark-Mark 2007
Published in Jigsaw: Writers’ Works Bern
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