Sweetening the Air - Dec 20 2024

 

Sweetening the Air

Dec 20 2024

The decorative candle

I never intended to be lit

is now disfigured

by ropey drips of wax,

a sharply hooked wick

charred to brittle black.

The candle looks stunted,

like an old man

with a hunched back

and shortened vertebrae.

Nevertheless,

I left the candle

on the mantle

in the white ceramic holder

it so nicely matched.

Beeswax,

that hardly smokes,

burns slowly,

and sweetens the air

with a faintly honeyed scent.

This push/pull

between function and beauty

reminds me of her.

How her self-image

and self-esteem

depended solely on looks,

as if she only existed

in the eyes of men

and the envy of her peers.

How inch-by-inch she vanished

as youth abandoned her,

the mommy-fat persisted,

and the damaged skin

from years of sun

made her age even faster.

How she could no longer hide

the crow’s feet and laugh lines

etched into her face,

and how the long blonde hair

in which she took such pride

had turned a wispy grey.

Of course, inner beauty is hard.

While the outer kind

is a cruel lottery;

the accident of birth,

the prerogative of youth,

and the cultural ideal

that prevails in one’s time.

To age gracefully

is even harder.

Who knows what light

she might have cast

if she’d given herself a chance,

with what heat

she could have warmed the world.

If she’d only found a purpose,

had let the talent flourish

I knew she had.

But instead

she left us prematurely;

an ornamental candle

that burned brightly

and so entranced me with its light.

Only to be snuffed out

before its time.

So all that's left

a honeyed scent

lingering in the air.