In recent conversation, the concept of "middle age" came up. My friend stated, "'Middle age' assumes a lot." When asked what he meant, he explained that we never know when we reach the middle of our lives.
It seems what we call "middle age" simply describes a time of transition, not a fixed point in time. Perhaps it is a time to reckon with the slowing of our bodies and the acceleration of years. Maybe it is only a moment to look forward and look back, hopefully with the hard-earned wisdom graciously given to us.
I wrote this poem as a reflection on "middle age" as it approached. I confess, ten years later, I cannot answer the question my younger self posed. However, I cannot help but smile to think it's a question the Father will never ask.
Middle Age
Persuaded that duties are judiciously diluted dreams
I perch on the edge of days
Where youth once declared, "I could do anything!"
Age begs, "Will I do anything?"
While death whispers, "Did you do anything?"
Should I answer, "I did all I must," or "I did all I could"?
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