My Last Meal – My Plate is Empty

There is a time in life to release ourselves from the image we have presented to the world and to occupy the person called me. To live your latter years in this space can provide both freedom and interest. It does not require us to forget our past but provides the opportunity to connect with the newness that comes with age. This poem is a reminder of this to myself – Janice Cohen

Where once my profession rested next to my motherhood

Feeding the purpose for my existence,

Now my plate is empty

Sadness accompanies every swallow,

Grasping for the tidbits that once felt like delicious morsels

Nourishing my presence in the world;

Yet I don’t long to return to their taste upon my tongue,

I want something that will not feed me but become me,

Smash that empty plate against the wall

Notice how full you feel,

You are not an empty vile waiting for the next offering to sustain you,

You are the nourisher of what resides within

That was always there waiting to be called.

Janice Cohen lives in Scarborough, ME.