This poem came to me after my morning walk. Having recently taken a leap of faith, I meet people daily undergoing the same metamorphosis. Change is the best tool to meet the hidden self. Endless, I don’t know how to do that, moments arise. Self-doubt comes tot the party uninvited. It wants the fairy bread! Self-doubt is no match for Google.
Finding the Way
Something’s happening out there
Like a mass calling
Grey nomads continue to head north for the warmth
Middle aged folk are jumping ship
Where to?
Careers spanning 30 plus years are discarded
Like a heavy jumper on a warm spring day
It looks effortless slipping slowly onto the green crunchy grass
They appear unnaturally optimistic
Is it the pills or is it real?
Fleeing the bounds of normality and respectability
Making crazy choices, moving headlong into newly discovered interests
Was this the plan all along?
Not likely, life seemed so stable
Or whims carried on the breath of the late-summer of life’s story?
Peers admire their gumption, smiling sad encouragement
Children wonder about dementia
Middle age is everywhere
Joys and sorrows conflicting in their laps
They watch the sunsets with appreciation and the sunrises with gratitude
Uncertainty, the only form of knowing
Finding the way
