Poetry: Forty-Five

Forty-Five
(Written in 2005)

I woke up yesterday
And I was forty-five
Like a bullet,
Spent and wasted
My dangerous days
Far behind
I am the ashes
Of a fire
Burned out long ago
I am the memory
Of desperate glory
Faded in the mind
Now the wind blows
And it stirs me
Now the rain falls
And it washes away
The sins of reckless youth
Sacred time
Is always flowing
Like a river
Through the desert
The shattered violence
Of a bullet
The raging fury
Of the kindled blaze
Immortal Glory
In the moment
Never lost
Never gone
I woke up yesterday
And I was forty-five
The same old sun
Brings the dawn
The same old stars
Bid the night farewell
This is my heaven
This is my hell
I wrap my arms around you
I hold you tightly
I woke up yesterday
And I was forty-five
Like a bullet
Spent and wasted
My dangerous days
Far behind

Commentary: I was cleaning out a box the other day and I found a steno pad. Forty-five was written in that steno pad and I recalled writing it nearly four years ago now, when I actually was forty-five. I have been in my life equal parts saint and sinner. I have warred with God and I have warred with Man and like Jacob at the foot of the ladder I have certainly wrestled with my better angels. I like to think they won and I became a better man. But, sometimes I wonder if I simply tired out. We are, the sum of us, all of those things we have done and failed to do. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.