"At a Certain Age" by Czesław Miłosz:
We wanted to confess our sins but there were no takers.
White clouds refused to accept them, and the wind
Was too busy visiting sea after sea.
We did not succeed in interesting the animals.
Dogs, disappointed, expected an order,
A cat, as always immoral, was falling asleep.
A person seemingly very close
Did not care to hear of things long past.
Conversations with friends over vodka or coffee
Ought not be prolonged beyond the first sign of boredom.
It would be humiliating to pay by the hour
A man with a diploma, just for listening.
Churches. Perhaps churches. But to confess there what?
The poem continues. Cynthia Haven examines old age in this poem, among others.
(Image: The Luminarie De Cagna, a cathedral-like structure with 55,000 LEDs, on display at the 2012 Light Festival in Ghent, Belgium via Christopher Jobson.)
The Dish 