Aging and Innocence

A baby lies, eyes wide and small,
In a world of warmth, with no thought at all.
In the mess and the stain, it doesn’t mind,
Once cleaned and held, it leaves the past behind.

But an old woman, worn and weak,
Lies in shadows where daylight leaks.
Her eyes once bright now dim and sore,
She feels the weight she cannot ignore.

The baby cries, but it’s soothed with care,
It knows no loss, no burden to bear.
No thoughts linger when the tears dry,
The past is gone, the future sky.

But the woman’s heart, heavy with years,
Holds memories woven with pain and fears.
Every wrinkle tells a story, old and deep,
A life of losses, promises left to keep.

The baby knows nothing of time’s cruel hold,
No regrets, no stories left untold.
But the woman feels every betrayal’s sting,
The ghosts of injustice and everything.

Why does age weigh like an iron chain,
Pulling memories from joy to pain?
For the baby, life is a song anew,
For the aged, the echoes continue to stew.

If only, like the child, she could let go,
Leave the past like footprints in the snow.
But her mind, like a storm, spins and sways,
Holding onto the hurts of yesterday’s days.

Oh, to be cleansed, and not just the skin,
But the heart, the soul, where the pain begins.
To lay down, to rise with a lighter load,
To find the peace where once storms strode.