Because Subtlety Is Not My Strong Suit…


Getting old is not for the weak. 

Not for the faint of heart
The fearful
Or the hesitant

Its for those of us
Who can live with our regrets
Carry the burden of failure
And unrealised longing

Getting old
is a spiritual pilgrimage
It asks you to give up
some of the things you love
And some of the people

To reconsider your expectations
To put aside your disappointments

Pieces of your identity
will be stripped away like wet clothing

You will discard
that which you've outgrown
Turn a deaf ear to inane chatter
Focus harder
on the empty pause

This is the time
to embrace the ghosts of your past
To search for angels in ceiling tiles
And find wonder
in small unlikely places

Getting old requires a pure heart
One at home with its own contradictions

It is the surrender of ego
And self-delusion
Requires us to meditate
On isolation and invisibility
To release want and knowing
Like dry leaves in a windstorm.

But most of all

It demands
strength and cunning

Resistance and refusal

Even a little rage

So you can sneak up behind those who would consign you to silence
And gently shove their sorry asses
down a flight of stairs

Getting old is not for the weak, my friends

That a lot of the people we loved
never made it this far...

Kick at the dimming flame.

You ain't done yet.