The years

I

The flesh, failing – failing –

raging against the years

renewing cells – renewing again –

against the inscribed odds

relentlessly flayed – decaying

constantly torn – remade

II

We seldom catch a breath

wrestled against the ground

face first – the years applying

their entire, smothering weight

“lovingly, in our best interest”

we’d hear if they could speak

III

The years ploughing, scooping out

handfuls of good will at a time

hollowing the heart out

altering down through memories

– leaving us more different than ever

IV

And us swearing we’re yet the same

our senses inadequate to deal with reality

the years unkind, brutal

ununderstood –

sibylline –

V

The years coveting prizes

– heart, brain, soul –

carving out a passage from within

– towards the light

which is anything but

covered darkness and

gravitational subjugation

VI

We fight back with gentle moves

and absurd gestures

towards eternity

– to ward loneliness off

and the despair freedom brings –

– to balance chaos and beauty –

– to stave the years off

hoping for a shred of dignity when

time finally comes –

VII

The years ahead – the years behind

matter vibrating into arrows

– all-encompassing discs –

desperate to prove it has

some measure of meaning

beyond these years

VIII

– there will be time –

– there won’t be time –

The years won’t matter when

howling like a dying animal

– whimpering and wounded –

we finally let go of the flesh –

and see the darkness

and the light

for what they are