Around the middle of tumbled life
fear rises up greeting the day
with longing for no more unplanned happenings,
that cut or maim or squash
the body into a new configuration of change.
Age or infirmity. Leave me alone.
Go somewhere else to live.
I’ve seen enough of your face.
Yet pausing in that instant
of recognition the truth rises
up, greeting life itself and
the two, life and truth,
go tumbling down the day together,
holding hands.
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