We grow from children
to young men,
to whatever it is
that we are, now.
Old,
irritable,
nihilistic,
and certain of our decrepitude.
A far cry from lofty visions,
a hair’s breadth from our worst nightmares.
Whatever it is in life
that gets ahold of us
sure has one hell of a grip.
Hard to believe
I used to look up to you.
If I had looked
to see who you were looking up to,
I might have had a clue.
The way up
was a needle shot away
from a last refrain,
but the way down;
Man, that was what it is
to be swallowed up
by the Earth.
This is why we talk about rebirth.
Some of us
are a little harder to kill.
Some of us smart,
some of us lucky,
but all of us
stand on the backs of the less fortunate.
Those that didn’t make it.
Shit.
We may have traded away a few decades
and slipped that noose around our necks a time or two.
I could never tell
if survival sometimes
was strength, or cowardice,
but I wake up breathing
all the same.
These days,
I’m trying to put the sun in my eyes
a lot more than I used to.
I’m trying to feel the wind on my face
and fresh air in my lungs.
Man, I know than an old and battered friend
is still drawing breath out there.
I see you complaining
on social media.
Stay alive, brother.
Stay alive.
HG – 2019