Poetry: Dawn’s Promise

80 odd years I may have
50 left to go
Not that tomorrow is a promise
But if it is – and each dawn so,
That’s 10 to 15 years more to reap what I sow

I can’t fathom had it happened all those years ago
I’d have a child going through puberty now,
and maybe I would be more mature myself –
But I’m not

I’m still waiting for the rite of passage that ushers in a new dawn where I’m not scared and I believe in myself entirely

I even try to stage my own

Tonight I stripped down to my boxers and walked into the ocean
I lied down under a wave
And in the faded light of dusk the water looked ominous, green, and black
And lying on my back the sea welcomed me in with a gentle, comforting pull
And I hoped to gain something from it,
Some purification or seasoning of my soul
And I walked out of the water slow and dripping
Wearing the slight pride of a minor victory like invisible armor
And maybe for a minute the fear was masked

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