My Age Is My Enemy (Written November 28)

My Age Is My Enemy


Moving on the mountains behind us,

The wild horses, numbering eight

Or ten, wary of humans,


Plunge deeper into the woods.

Night falls quickly, covering

The hillside and making


The descent more difficult for me

And my son. He pushes on,

Worried about the storm he hears


Coming up over the mountains. My age

Is my enemy, and all my fears

Are gathered in a runaway heartbeat,


Which thunders like those horses running

Up the mountain, into the woods, in the heat

Of the moment. But he, my son, is strong


And I believe in him. In sum, we saw

What we came to see, but stayed too long.

Darkness surrounds us, on every side.

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