We are grey panthers.

We have deep lines

of laughter and sorrow etched upon our cheeks.

We have beer bellies,

scrawny necks,

withered breasts,

bunions, corns, and ingrowing toenails,

varicose veins knotted in our legs,

our bodies used, stretch-marked, sagging, bony, obese,

and we are beautiful.

 

We are the true face of humanity.

This is the shape all must grow towards,

not as a deterioration

of some mythical, chocolate-box image of perfection,

of smooth, unsullied skin,

unclouded eyes,

golden and raven tresses,

and similar pictures of immaturity,

but a fulfilment.

 

Our teeth are blunted,

our eyes dim,

our ears become hard to hear with,

but our claws are still sharp.

Beware.

 

Our numbers are growing

as yours, the young in years, decline.

For we have the vigour of the forever young,

who have begun as we enter our years of fruitfulness

to learn what life is really for.

Learn from us.

July 4, 2000