This is why I believe that, when reading a poem, we should pay less attention to what we imagine the poet intended to say and more attention to what the poem itself communicates. Instead of asking only, What has the poet said? we should also ask, What is the poem saying? What does it evoke in me? What meanings can I discover in its images, symbols, metaphors, language, structure, and silences?
I think about this now, sitting beside her bed, listening to the difficult machinery of her breathing, and I find myself revisiting some of the memories I had filed away as childhood grievances. .. Age has a way of returning old memories to us with their labels removed.
I remember my grandmother by a lot of things, and when I picture myself in old age, I see myself in her image. Tall, lean, with a slightly curved back, a head full of gray hair that tangles and covers my eyes when being loose. Rheumy eyes set on a dark lean face, hands that are ever generous, and a serious demeanor that resets naughty grandchildren back to their default setting.