To Aspire Once Again To Fly

To anyone who has wondered where I've been - Life threw a couple of curve balls at me. I found myself unemployed last July and at my advanced years, finding work has been - well, let's just say eight months later I'm still unemployed. I'm too damned old to move in search of employment and there are very few jobs here on the Oregon Coast. And so far, the jobs I have applied for have turned me down (despite the fact I am well qualified). I'm smart. I still learn quickly. I'm open minded. I'm talented. I have great instincts. I have a great work ethic. I play well with others. But, I think "I'm a little too long in the tooth!" So, I've been writing. Prose. A novel. My poetry got pushed to the side. Then writer's block hit. After nearly two weeks of staring blankly at the screen and fingers beginning to atrophy from lack of inspiration, I turned to my old friend, the Jigsaw Poem. Words given me a couple of months ago by my Brother-in-Law Don, his wife Janet and their son Cyrus. The words are torment, obstreperous, flitting, horseshoe, chilly, glider, shine, opaque, invalid, and vanity. The poem is a metaphor for my current situation. Tell me what you think!

To Aspire Once Again To Fly

I understand these crushed limbs are ugly.
The torment of their twisted uselessness
Is a constant obstreperous reminder
That most of my could have beens,
the should have beens, are gone.
Am I wrong to aspire once again to fly?
Is it just a conceit to think
the dragonfly flitting through the yard
is taunting me as it hovers over the metal stake
Rusting in a long dormant horseshoe pit,
But finds the iron post too chilly to perch upon
And floats on, leaving me here, stuck,
Tethered by gravity, dead nerves and atrophied muscle?
I remember the silver gleam of glider wings
Floating on the afternoon updraft
Dazzling my eyes with their quicksilver shine.
I remember the transparent blue skies
And how my soul soared on the wind.
I remember the opaque brown ground
Rushing up to change me forever.
Is there truth in pain, dignity in suffering?
Has my infirmity rendered me useless?
Are my dreams invalid, my wishes hopeless?
Is it vanity to think I am no invalid?
Am I wrong to aspire once again to fly?