i’ve been in a dark place for a while, not ready to explain: my privilege at my ripe…okay, rotten old age. i wrote this with the intent of not publishing it, adding to my volumes of stuff for those left behind to decide what to do with it after i crossed the bridge.

But dammit, this is how i feel. So i decided i wanted you all to see it and think about…or just blow it off:

i’ve used most of my eightieth year,
thinking about things,
coming to conclusions
like the undeniable conclusion
i’m going to die…
maybe not tomorrow:
i might even be around for twenty more
or
go bye-bye tomorrow
but
for sure, i’m going to die.

having accepted that fact,
i discovered i have no fear,
not of dying, not of anything
when it seems damn near everyone over sixty
is fearful of something:
fear of going broke;
fear of their children going broke;
fear of being overrun by folks they perceive as alien
(having been to sea for a good chunk of my eighty,
i’ve seen folks of all kinds of folks,
realizing all groups of folks have the same mix of folks
only different in their beliefs, good, bad, saintly, evil);
fear of someone not believing what they believe,
believing their beliefs are fact:
as if their beliefs were fact:
then they would be Truth
and
we are still chasing that Truth thing down;
only Time will tell the Truth,
but
most folks can’t handle that,
almost as if they enjoy slopping
around in their fear, their beliefs
like muddy hogs in the sty:
fearing the unknown,
which
grows into hate,
which
becomes disagreement,
which
becomes conflict,
which
becomes war,
which
begets Death on a grand scale.

so, i no longer fear
anything
and
try to focus on living life as a good man
attempting to do the right thing,
not fearing, not hating,
caring for people regardless of their beliefs
because thinking about things in my eightieth year
i believe (there’s that word again)
treating humans, each one, as a human being
is the noblest thing
a man in his eighties can do.