By Lenrie Peters
The panic
of growing older
spreads fluttering wings
from year to year
At twenty
stilled by hope
of gigantic success
time and exploration
At thirty
a sudden throb of
pain. Laboratory tests
have nothing to show
Legs cribbed
in domesticity allow
no sudden leaps
At the moon now
Copybook bisected
with red ink
and failures –
nothing to show the world
Three children perhaps
the world expects
it of you. No
specialist’s effort there.
But science gives hope
of twice three score
and ten. Hope
is not a grain of sand.
Inner satisfaction
dwindles in sharp
blades of expectation
from now on the world has you.
About the Poem
Being a human being qualified Lenrie Leopold Wilfred Peters to write a poem titled The Panic of Growing Older, especially having gone past his 20s and 30s (he was born in 1932 and wrote the poem in 1967). Every human being starts out life full of hope, believing he’ll take the moon. But disappointment slowly sets in as the years stealthily pass by. Peters who enjoyed the best of two worlds (as a medical doctor and as an artist) knew about youthfulness, exuberance, dreams and the physiological and the psychological processes of growing up.
Only for a few in the world, is life a harvest of satisfaction. Many at the twilight of age, harvest regrets. Religion thrives on this, with the promise of hope and a harvest of satisfaction at the end of life many fling to it looking forward to the utopian place of satisfaction and joy.
