Over the Hill

Nearing the crest was hardest.

I recall viewing it from far away

as if it were only a simple prospect

& not a hard fast guarantee:

the approaching steady ache, but more,

becoming accustomed to a slower pace;

the heaving of a great sigh

upon leaving a particular seat of comfort;

the giving over of black to silver,

smooth & taut to soft & fleshy,

wrinkled even, beyond repair even;

the gradual knowing that time moves,

has moved, will move on faster & faster

till you’re not even dizzy with it anymore.

Some folks become just plain bored.

Not me; I enjoyed the climb, the feet

one in front of the other, the sweat,

the growing of my flesh, the birthing

always of insight, my precious child.

Now that I’m here, I will carry you easily down.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*