Liminal Decades

Always begin again -- it is ever too late?
Wherever you are -- whenever you arrive,
lifelong traffic distractions and companion muttering,
sore in hip, knot in gut, tired,
swollen fingers and ache behind the eyes.
Bless my body in its border crossing,
unfamiliar face in the mirror,
lament of lost youth, liminal decades,
slowing down but very much alive,
feet planted but moving forward still,
grounded and green. Forgive your body for aging,
sprouting wrinkles and fat, gray hair,
missing person poster for my younger
self. Throw the clods of dirt on your
buried body and begin again.



© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

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