Tag: aging
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Familiar Touch: A tactile portrayal of Alzheimer’s, anchored by Kathleen Chalfant’s quietly devastating performance.
Sarah Friedland’s “Familiar Touch,” starring Kathleen Chalfant, offers a lyrical and unsentimental portrait of Alzheimer’s, where identity flickers through gesture, and care becomes a quiet act of preservation.
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Shadows and Ghosts and Angels
This poem emerged from a real CT scan I underwent—an experience that felt both absurd and sacred. I wanted to capture the paradox of being scanned for tumors while feeling the warmth of contrast dye and hearing the machine’s screech. The poem resists sentimentality and dramatization. It’s a meditation on diagnostic ritual, the bureaucratic anticlimax…
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Sightlines
Sightlines” emerged from a moment of ritual clarity—when my aging eyes, no longer tasked with precision, began to see through blur into beauty. The poem honors the body’s quiet adaptations and the mind’s compensatory grace. It’s a minimalist elegy for vision, a philosophical gesture toward perception as ritual. I wanted to write something that doesn’t…
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Wrinkle-less
Wrinkle-less emerged from a moment of reflection on how survival—through illness, loss, and aging—leaves marks that are not always visible. I wanted to resist the cultural shorthand that equates wrinkles with wisdom, virtue or experience, and instead offer a poem where absence becomes a site of consequence. The scars, deafness, and neuropathy I reference are…
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Opening Up
Opening Up emerged from a moment of absurd domestic frustration—an aging hand versus a childproof cap. What began as a minor inconvenience unraveled into a meditation on dependency, ritual, and the quiet humiliations of aging. The poem is both elegy and satire, honoring the intimacy of shared routines while resisting sentimentality. I wanted to capture…
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Photo Stop
This poem began as a meditation on gesture—specifically, the act of photographing something not to share, but to preserve a private emotional truth. I was thinking about how grief often manifests in small, unceremonious rituals: lifting a phone, deleting and retaking an image, placing it back in a purse chosen for protection rather than style.…
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Another Day
I am at that age where I am relieved that it’s day again every time I awake. Instead of crushing time between my hands, I am content to let it take shape, watch the day’s soft eyes blink the hours away, help take it by the hand when the night says it’s time to go.