A Valentine to the Fountain of Age

Waking Point

by Helen Noakes

“Older, we must move, and stay, and move again, to keep our life-giving ties alive, for this movement is our fountain of age. And there’s a freedom in realizing this, a new freedom to move or stay, new necessities and possibilities of choice.”—Betty Friedan

SAN FRANCISCO California—(Weekly Hubris)—2/13/12—

And so, one day, I left my old familiar vessel

And stepped out barefoot onto shores

Spied only in the wisdom-fraught word

Of my forgotten dreams;

I traveled deep into my own silence

Over uncharted territories of memory’s landscapes

Crossed white giant ice floes of desire

Breathed scents of jasmine on a balmy night

Lit the dark labyrinth

Embraced my Minotaur

Reduced nightmares to folly

And, trembling but triumphant,

Stood free

Of pain

Of need

Of hope;

The only sound

The beating of my heart

And for a millisecond or

An eternity

One with the Universe

I traveled deep into my own silence.