Soul Sunday

It struck me the other day that this is probably the first time in my life when I have actually felt more vulnerable due to my age. I’m approaching 50. This “dawning” was a middle age turning point for me. It was one of those awakening moments that reminded me that I really am headed into the autumn of my life. My heart goes out to you all who are in your 60s and beyond. It must be terrifying, at times, concerning the coronavirus. I feel for you.

Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. Please publish your poems in my Comments section. This is a poetry workshop, where we should all feel safe to share, our free flow of thoughts. Here’s my poem for the day:

The Trick

Who knew that we were all part of a fantastic illusion?

We were the white rabbits and the silk scarves,

in a grand sleight of the hand.

We thought that we were in on the trick,

Winking, knowing how the “magic” works.

We, as lovely assistants, sometimes smirked at the Magician,

Sneered at the fools in the audience,

Only to be brought to our knees,

By a horrific force, too tiny to even be seen.

Now we are all in this together,

Humbled by the unknown,

No longer wishing to just be entertained,

No longer full of pride and disdain,

Just praying for the real magic to fix this all,

In order for us to be wholly healed,

Sewing together all of our parts that have been sawed apart,

And for the trick to be over, so that the real magic can begin . . .