Thursday, December 29, 2016

On Turning Forty

We had a great Christmas. A happy Christmas.

And then, two days ago, I turned forty. I don't feel any different, really. It's just a number. But it means I've been here, on earth, for forty years.

In this strange, in-between week of Holidays, when the world slows down and gets ready for a new year, I always turn a new age, too. I get introspective and examine my life and make plans for the year to come. I lounge around in my pajamas, reading novels and eating chocolate.

Sometimes I write poetry.
Well, today I did, anyway. Here it is.
Be gentle, critic. 

      On Turning Forty and Changing the World

      My shoulders are weary
      Carrying this load. My feet ache. Cold.
      I just want someone to pave the way . . . pay my way.
      I want . . . too much.
      The pavement is shifting and I’m having forbidden thoughts.
      About to fall.
      No. Be grateful. You have so much.
      But I’m selfish. Stubborn. I want . . . so much more.
      Is it too much to ask? Just for one day?

      In the warm, lighted haven. Heaven, to me.
      Books all around. I browse.
      On a book jacket.
      What I’m longing for. We all are.

      This life. This world.
      I close my eyes. Breathe deeply and know
      I am not alone.
      This ache. This wanting.
      Proof that there is more.

       I open my eyes and see clearly again
      The gifts right there in front of me
      All along.

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