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The Wild Grey

The time has come
when old women and men shall rise and hold forth
spitting contests.
With no clothes and under the full moon
dance and run amuck.
With strong withered arms embrace power
shouting NOW!

Be Brave! NOW

Ride into aging’s
freedom. Finally, let go!
No need for reins
on joy.

Not in this third of life.

You’ve held back so long.
Protected by demons and
Archetypal shadows screaming:
Who do you think you are?

Hopes and dreams of innocence
buried like secrets
embodied themselves in time.
And now 40 years later
explode like bombs.

Longing so strong and menacing
that if the cure means to re-member:
our forgotten
our if only
our could have been selves.
We will. No matter the cost.
Or reward.

The time has come.
Old women and men shall rise with strong arms
finally able to hold the weight and
The truth of ourselves
shall burst wide-open.

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