This is no
Mid-life crisis,
No crisis at all.
Instead, I feel
Empty
And calm,
No longer rolled tight
In a ball
Of stress, and strife,
Fighting for breath,
Yearning for more
Life.
And now
Is the stasis,
No more status quo
Of chasing, and running
With nowhere to go
But round, once more
Mad rush to the floor.
Still,
All is still
And quiet, inside
The voices of urgency
Crying loud, like seagull-screech
Deep in chest, they have left
Empty nest, neither squawking birds,
Nor baby chicks crying for food,
No up and down roller coaster,
Just slight shift in mood.
I go up, and down,
And back again,
Always the same,
Dearest of friends,
Round to call,
Yet not the same,
For underneath it all
Is something calm, leaves coating the ground
Multi-coloured nature’s blanket, unraked,
Unneeded, unnoticed, unheeded, but all of that’s
Just noise, background hum,
Sliced through by the tinnitus,
Sound of silence, constant
And when all’s said and done,
Cliche after cliche marching two-by-two,
This one is truer than that one,
My eyes are clearer than yours,
Money pouring from pockets opens doors
That don’t really matter.
Will I ever hear the little pitter-patter
Of un-padded feet?
Is that the aim of life,
Or something else entirely,
Something achingly deep,
Soulfully wide,
Scarringly bright,
That we carefully hide,
As if
To share
That one deep dark truth within,
Would be the greatest of fears realised,
Life’s ultimate sin,
Against ourselves,
Throbbing ache deep in gut,
Or just above,
As if the hole of lonely acceptance
No longer misses the love,
But instead resides – monkey-like –
In chest,
Never to be warmed by soft-armed vest,
The hug of a loved one
Momentary relief
Loves empty crater
Memory of happiness
Slightest of balms
For later, but now all we have
Is the roundabout thought,
The feeling of loss
That itself means nought,
Great empty divide
Basin invisible in the dark,
The playground from hell,
Broken reality,
Healing heart.