Not long ago I was asked to write a poem for a woman's 80th birthday. I like it.
What have I done?
Where have I been?
Who have I known?
Who did I become?
You likely don’t remember your
beginning, and
If you do you can assume your memory is
not accurate.
None of it. Your memory of the events in your life
Leaves gaping holes and embellishes
with manufactured experiences
That never took place. Memory is the most fallible aspect of life.
Without trusting memory how can you
possibly embrace these questions
As if they matter, which is
questionable in and of itself.
Tuning into your innermost heartsong is
far more trustworthy
Than scanning the pages of a scrapbook.
Today, who do you know yourself to be?
You know, not by listing your many
accomplishments for
You are wise enough to accept that for every
accomplishment
Is a stone unturned, someone neglected,
a lie told, a grudge held.
You will only truly know who you are
today by listening
To your inner song, its resonance, its
harmony, its honesty.
On this, your 80th birthday,
you will be celebrated, feted, honored and extolled,
But you, and only you, can hear the
inner chords from Life’s Heart,
The resonant hum that whispers Lillian, Lillian, Lillian.
That song will remain with you until
the end.
It will continue to uplift and
reassure, console you and release you,
Draw others to you, frighten some away.
It is your song, your composition, your
unique melody
That you have been orchestrating your
entire life,
Your indestructible song, your
signature symphony,
Now 80 years in the making.
Nothing, no one is more reliable, more
dependable than
The unique, magnificent and now ancient
song in your heart.
