To the Angry Young

(Illustration: the author as an Occasionally Angry Young Woman)

You’re young, and sure, and full of outrage now.

I understand, you know. I’ve been there too.

I wasn’t born this age.

We ‘dissed’ our parents’ generation too

and thought we were the ones

who cared, who knew, who’d fix the world

and make it right. But no-one ever does.

We follow in the footsteps of the old

but never reach them,

pass our pearls of wisdom to the young

but fail to teach them.

That’s the way it goes.

And you’ll be older too, before too long.

You’ll feel the solid ground of your convictions

slip from underneath your feet

and see the shades of grey between the black and white.

You’ll realise that the world has changed again.

You’ll have to face not knowing half as much

about the new, the strange, the next great baffling things

as do your kids.

And sometimes you’ll feel slow, and daft,

forgetful, dozy, scared you’re losing touch

or losing half your brain.

But sometimes that old passion of your youth

will flare again, and you’ll stand up, and say:

I’m not dead yet!

In many cultures I’d be venerated,

for my years, for my experience of life!

I’ve lived two, three times longer than these kids

who claim to know it all,

who think I’ve lost my mind

or shouldn’t be allowed to speak it!

I’ve lived through hard times, grief, through threat of war,

through fear of illnesses that don’t exist today.

But I was educated well, and loved.

I lived through different times, but people, on the whole,

were just the same – their faults and weaknesses,

their tempers, tears, their longings and their fears.

And when you’re older, doubtless you’ll look back;

I know we all do that.

But you’ll look forward too, look at your children

and your grandkids, and you’ll want, for them,

the good things you remember from your youth

and not the bad.

The good things they will hopefully embrace

but please God, you’ll be praying, not the bad.

You’ll think things through, remember all the times

of past uncertainties, recessions, scandals, crimes,

wars, civil unrest and economic gloom.

You’ll realise that you’ve seen them all before

in different guises. Still the world goes on.

And when you’re criticised for what you think, perhaps you’ll say:

I may not know the things you know

but you can never know the things I’ve known,

or see the things I’ve seen

or hear the things I’ve heard

unless you’ve lived the years I’ve lived

and borne the things I’ve borne.

Yes, you’ll be older too, before too long

and I won’t still be here, to see you age.

But maybe, possibly, there’s just a chance –  

when younger ones (for whom you gave your all,

for whom you fought the old, the wrong, the mad),

decry, dismiss and treat you like a fool – 

you’ll read these words again, and understand:

We’re all wise in the end –

when it’s too late.

© Sheila Norton 2024