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