This is (Almost) 50
Oh we’re older now. Not old, but older.
We just missed the peace train and have
always felt out of sync with the slackers.
Sorta illegitimate heirs to both though.
In the beginning we said too much.
But gradually we came to say less.
We carry in ourselves great and private
pain much of which has gone unshared.
Having learned few things turn out the
way we hope, we plan with parentheses
(okay, now if this doesn’t work, then…).
Still at night we dream American dreams.
And maybe that’s it. We’re the last slice
of truly American pie before the great divorce. If you care, all we’d really like to say is
We have met the enemy. It is contempt.
of truly American pie before the great divorce. If you care, all we’d really like to say is
We have met the enemy. It is contempt.
A nod to you, John.
I am over 60,
a passenger on the peace train
that left me long ago.
I said too little,
but have learned to say more now.
There is great and private
unshared pain here, too, yet
in the learning and accepting
of grace, which didn’t come
until my 50s.
I slayed the enemy of regret
and grabbed onto the
prize of everlasting
hope and love.
Lovely.
Susan, that is beautiful. Thank you for your words, especially the last few lines!! Soon to be seventy and seeing grace more and more.
Somehow, as the bones grow more brittle and the eyes grow dim, the vision seems brighter, doesn’t it? Thank you, Gwen, but it’s John who is the inspiration here. He uplifts my heart and soul every time I read his poetry.
Dam! This is great stuff,
New to your work and am sharing it with all who have the soul to “get it”!
Thanks, John
John, touche’! Is there yet a way to recreate, maybe put another pie in the oven? Have we gone so far that our former youth can shout out of this older carcass? Or is that where we are caught in between! Wise worn but never loosing wonder and amazement! Man I do dig the way you preach!
I get it. I like to talk to my contempt now and ask it why I needed it – even need it sometimes still – and honestly and kindly say good-bye. Sounds kinda weird, I know:), but hating the hatred has caused me more problems than risking feeling it and having a conversation. And I’m 54, just coming to this point now:). Love your writing and enjoy your heart. Thanks for sharing it.
Yeah, that C word is a killer. Thank you, as always.
There are echoes of David Foster Wallace here and much I relate to. Being sandwiched in that slice of time, too young to be a boomer, too old to fathom the minds of Gen X,Y,Z; great and private pain; contingencies made to hedge disappointment; the dogged refusal to trade the old currency of simple and sacred for nouveau contempt. Rage is all the rage – sneer without substance (reality show hell) or sneer enamored with its own substance (intelligentsia on all sides who don’t seem to find anything redeeming except their own surety). You’re more of an optimist than I am (yup, hoping for the happily ever ending on this blue planet does leave me skittish) because a return to days gone by seems far-fetched. But here’s hoping that when we’ve got past all the posts – post-modern, post-Christian, post-American, post- meaning – maybe when we’re empty, we’ll come full circle. And Gen A,B,C will pity this cynical lot and wonder at our inability to see the wonder. That would be cool.
just beautiful. waiting for a book to be published with your words!
John, I’m only almost-35, but MAN do I ever feel this. Maybe being the late-born only son of a couple of Depression kids has something to do with it. I don’t even belong to my own generation.
Whatever the reasons, your words regularly ring deep with me. If God really builds little cabins in the corners of Glory-land, I feel like I wouldn’t be surprised to find us neighbors some day.