30 in 30 2016: #27 Learning the difference between bravery and recklessness #28 Remembering to love myself gets harder with old age.

#27 Learning the difference between bravery and recklessness

At the intersection of Bravery, Reckless, and Foolish, 

I’m standing on the corner waiting for my ride outta here. 

I’m not sure which direction it’s coming from 

or which direction I expect it’ll be leaving. 

They all look the same from this corner. 

Dark streets with foggy far ends. 

It always takes a long time to get here, 

but I always come crawling back to this spot. 

Most of my life was launched from here, 

though I’m not sure where any of it got to. 

I know I should learn my way out of here; 

which streets take me the safest way home the quickest 

and which aren’t headed anywhere I need to be. 

They are one way streets spilling out away from me. 

I can’t remember the last time I arrived, 

but I know I haven’t left yet. 

My ride isn’t showing up, 

so I know my chances at an easy way out 

are growing slimmer the longer I wait. 

I’ll try to fit as much deep breath into my lungs as I can in one shot, 

before closing my eyes and stepping off the curb searching for a soft landing.

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#28 Remembering to love myself gets harder with old age

Object permanence destroyed my hopes

of becoming a rock star superhero. 

Running through stubbed toes and scraped knees, 

forever was a distant dream of a new world 

where summer stretched there and back 

and school was closed the entire time. 

I could dream into that ocean of possibility 

without ever having to know how shallow it was. 

When the world stopped seeing 

“I didn’t know any better” as cute 

I realized how far forever 

wasn’t going to stretch for me. 

Forever became a reflection of whatever

I couldn’t change about myself. 

The parts of me that I see every day 

are still there and still what I saw yesterday. 

There are so many things that 

I just didn’t have time to rescue from themselves. 

I find new ways to live the life I’ve lead 

every time I reflect on the things I couldn’t save. 

The time it takes to sort out what can be fixed 

and what I’m stuck with 

is a more daunting task than I can confront. 

But looking into the mirror, 

I remind myself that this is not forever 

and things can always change, 

even if I forget how they do.