Day 15 — Forgive my Silence and Here is my Breakfast of Dread

Forgive my silence over the past few days, but I have been a bit overwhelmed, indulging in self-pity and the rest of that bullshit. But it is over today and I am moving forward with a smile. Perhaps less of a smile and more of a Cheshire Cat grin or even a smirk. Both knowing and not knowing quite so much. Often we pretend to know and appear confident when the world is shaking beneath our feet.

I received a lovely message of support from my Aunt Carol this morning, and such messages mean a lot because they help vault me past my indulgent mind and into moments of taking action and moving forward. It reminded me of a poem I wrote when I was younger called Breakfast of Dread. I must admit that I love the last lines of the last two stanzas because I have to imagine my freedom and prepare to conquer with love the dead. I only stumble side-to-side, lurching with fear, but I actually can walk and move forward when I embrace the reality of faith.


So here is the poem before I venture out to a barbecue with friends...

breakfast of dread

i think that i have already

written my best poem and

it's all downhill from here.

the verb written and the noun poem

can easily be replaced

with countless growing fears.

as those among us grow older

their hopes often narrow

until they fit into a pine box.

we recognize the ridiculous.

our years few, our talents growing,

but in the flash of an eyelid,

we return suddenly whence we came,

(born astride of the grave wrote beckett)

and our great works soon forgotten.

don't pout. don't suck your lower lip.

if given the courage to face gladly

the inevitable, imagine your freedom.

eat chunks of dread for breakfast,

digest the eternal darkness and

prepare to conquer with love the dead.