Friday, July 22, 2011

Midlife Crisis


Another day and another poem. I wrote this one after reading the first poem of Pablo Neruda's first poem in Winter Garden on the bus to work. It made me reflect on my stage of life, middle age heading to old fast. Last night we, my church, served dinner at Ronald McDonald House. Since coming back from our trip Seattle Children's Hospital and their amazing Craniofacial clinic for my son's surgery, I want to  serve at our local RMH, out of gratitude for all that we were given. Last night, in the afternoon sun, we grilled hamburgers and exchanged stories, the currency of love. Children fighting cancer played, shooting baskets,
riding trikes and laughed. I was overwhelmed by gratitude.

Afternoon High Tea By The Beach 
     -A Reflection

On the shores of my afternoon of life, the sun
shines hot as it begins of its return journey
to the horizon of non-being. The palm trees
full of fruit: dates, children, friends and loves.
The waves announce the coming low tide.
The water remains warm and swish of surf
Deposits more sand, adding to my land.

Lace, my love, watches as the my son Tito
plays in the sand of possibilities. I have passed
the beginnings and passed the pretending
the what I will be that marks the early morning
of life. The angst of midmorning is but a memory
to bore grandchildren around the life's evening bonfire
that is sure to come. I am comfortable in prayer,
in work, in poetry. I preach of love once a week.
I have tasted the good.. Ah, the afternoon of the 40s,
50s, and 60s, time of ritual high tea, of coffee,
and good conversation. I refuse to listen
to the romantic siren call of a midlife crisis,
That foolish dream of retuning to surfing.
when the body is was strong, and the mind
tossed in turn in a search of prefect wave.

I know too much of love. Love. Love
as the breads of sweat form words
which I have lived into, spoken with knowledge
and judgment abdicated to the other
better than I. I am too grateful
to turn myself into a buffoon chasing
his younger self. Gratitude, my heart is
fill with the stuff. But enough of that,
the bell has sounded and its time
to return to work.


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