I don’t want to grow old in a mirror,
Or in the bright light of company,
I don’t want to be pitied like an old dog
Patted and put to bed.
I want to grow old like a warrior,
Dying of life’s wounds,
Hurling my last words like swords
Into the faces of time and adversaries.
I want to grow old in the peacefulness of a purring cat,
With my saucer of the milk of human kindness close to my lips.
I don’t want to fear that my walls of Jericho
Will crumble and fall to the trumpet of death,
I want to push them down myself.
I want to grow old laughing and thinking,
Not on the edge of an abyss which eats words,
But in the wise place of old stones
That stand today a monument to life.
I want to grow old like a storm
Felling the trees of suspicion in my wake;
And before I die I want to churn the ocean
Like the great Blue Whale, and blow all my piss and shit
Out into the universe so people might know who I am.
I don’t want to be a sheep on the hill,
And follow the rest into slaughter.
I want to grow old ungracefully,
Understanding the shipwreck of life
Will one day come upon us all.
September 2021