At some point along the way

time begins to hemorrhage.
Efforts to slow its flow are vain.
Go ahead and try so you can say
I tried. But I’ll say I told you so.
Whatever you thought life close
to fifty would look like, it doesn’t.
You find yourself sifting among
the ruins searching for clues as to
what you’ve been doing all these years.
You come across a pill box full of
children’s teeth, a half-read copy
of Blood Meridian, fading obituaries
of classmates, and the black seeds of 
dreams planted that you still have
hope might one day soon bloom.
 
hemorrhage
 
 
 
 

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10 Comments

  1. Beth Impson on April 20, 2015 at 1:48 am

    Beautiful, John, and so true. I will be interested in your view ten years from now, when you’re closer to my age. 🙂

  2. henry mitchell on April 20, 2015 at 1:14 pm

    Rich between riches. I remember. The view from 75 will blow your mind.

  3. pastordt on April 21, 2015 at 2:53 pm

    Life is, in some ways, just beginning, John. Yes, there are endings now, too, but those black seeds? There is time for amazing growth and flowering. (I began my first paid pastoral role at 52, got paid to write for the first time at about age 60.) Looking forward to what flowers for you!

  4. jodyo70 on April 21, 2015 at 5:01 pm

    Echoing Ms. Diana above. I am closer to 60 than 50 and it seems the ‘seeds’ in my life are just beginning to sprout as well. All the rest? The years before? Just so much compost and fertilizer, preparing the soil.

    • thebeautifuldue on April 21, 2015 at 8:18 pm

      Yes, soil (soul) preparation I’m sure…thanks!

  5. thewarwithsarx on April 22, 2015 at 3:51 am

    Love your stuff, but that one was a little depressing 🙂 I’m 36 years old and hopefully some of my black seeds will have bloomed over the next 14 years. Almost everyday I worry that they won’t.

  6. Bare Branches on May 2, 2015 at 5:53 am

    I don’t know how I missed this but I love it. Living there now

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