Ode to My Grey-haired Dreams

I attended a workshop last night on writing about shame others bestow on us. We read a poem by Olivia Gatwood called Ode to My Bitch Face. It inspired me to write an Ode to my middle-aged self who is on the brink of further study but feels apprehensive and shame. I will say no more, enjoy!

Ode to My Grey-haired Dreams

Christina Christou

Yes, I am grey, and wrinkles line my face 

My joules distort the contours of my jaw,

Making me seem more miserable than I am,

Until I smile of course,

Then the illusion of youth prevails even for an instance.

But I do not care, well not all the time, 

‘Why do you want to study?

‘You are old.’ 

Are these my thoughts or from less sensitive souls?

Both, not at the same time, but they linger and torment

My fragile ego, filling dreams of failure and regret. 

‘Go for your dreams, you are an everlasting light

Here to experience your every delight’ my inner self insists.

Empowering but sometimes not, as I the one standing in reality

Does feel old and does feel like that boat has sailed.

Middle age is not meant to be like this is it?  

I SHOULD be settled with a nest egg now my children

Have flown from it and left it bare. 

No brood do I have to love and care for, well only from afar. 

What I do own is, my car, essentials and my cat

And my curious brain and adventurous heart.

I am grey and wrinkles line my face, true.

But now is the time my beloved hag

To spread those bingo wings and soar,

Angel wings helping you take flight

Calling back all the parts of you that you left behind.

Now is the time,

Now is all you have.

Your life is yours, until you are no more.

So, live your dream, your whim and create

For that is what we are – co-creators in this life

Nothing more, nothing less.


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