It is one of the benefits of age.
Of years working, learning, crying.
Years of discovery and anger.
Daily prayer, even when I did not feel like it.
Mostly when I did not feel like it;
of understanding how much I will never understand;
of having so many of the worries I carried
and the ones I did not see carve my spirits,
shred them in preparation for resurrections.,
years of grasping truths, half truths and lies.
I have become a believer in manna.
I have enough for today.
and the fog that surrounds me is only a gossamer curtain.
Behind it is the next act,
assembling itself out of sight,
not caring if I know the lines or not, confident
that the lines I create as the curtain rises
will, if not be the right ones,
will be good enough.
About this poem
When I began writing again, about fifteen years ago, fog was often a symbol of dread. That reflected where I was in life at that time, physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally.
Last night I watched a film on Trauma called “The Wisdom of Trauma” with my wife. It was, in some ways, a hard film for me to watch because it brought up memories of my own journey to where I am today, and much of that journey was painful. But as it ended, I found myself thinking instead, of the progress. And how the pain, while not something I would have chosen for myself, was turned to something good with the help of counselors, pastors and friends. God does that, turns crap into gold, when we allow him. I would not trade my life now for anything.
And fog, for me, has evolved. I don’t need to know what’s coming. I am up to it. I know that now. And that is a different kind of safety. Yes, age has its benefits.
Be well. Travel wisely. Know you are valued and loved and yes, enough.