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.