What is lived?

I don’t remember my birth
But it must have been traumatic.
And then to be helpless
Dead without love and care

What is life?
Helplessness has vanished
But vulnerability remains.
Each day is an attempt-
Trial and error, failure and perseverance

But what is the future?
What is to come is what has already been.
Age, frailty, brokenness-
The prizes for effort put forth.

What’s left is the reflection
Of a life – lived.
Then, once again, helplessness
Dead without love and care
And then just dead.

*a poem in response to The Jilting of Granny Weatherall by Katherine Anne Porter