fruit of the ages

broken and torn

on my last leg

livin' has taken thirty years off my life

i turned into a has-been overnight

waiting on my breakthrough:

my magical time to shine

 

not knowing that

the dim light that glowed

back in my thirties 

had already happened

 

i should have jumped that moving train

and never looked back

but instead

i stood there waiting on something greater--

something more miraculous

 

oblivious

holding onto some fantancy

not knowing that

fantasies are nothing more than fiction

and miracles happen only for the saintly

and children

neither of which

I am

 

i pretend

playing mind games with myself

to survive one day to the next

scouring for that bright light

or just a mere glimpse of it

holding onto a hope

like the mother back in Georgia

searching for her lost son

who went missing thirty years ago

 

so we continue pleading and chasing

chasing and pleading

for a moment that will never come

because like her son

my dreams vanished

to some benighted land

where tomorrow

holds no promisebroken and torn

on my last leg

livin' has taken thirty years off my life

i turned into a has-been overnight

waiting on my breakthrough:

my magical time to shine

 

not knowing that

the dim light that glowed

back in my thirties 

had already happened

 

i should have jumped that moving train

and never looked back

but instead

i stood there waiting on something greater--

something more miraculous

 

oblivious

holding onto some fantancy

not knowing that

fantasies are nothing more than fiction

and miracles happen only for the saintly

and children

neither of which

I am

 

i pretend

playing mind games with myself

to survive one day to the next

scouring for that bright light

or just a mere glimpse of it

holding onto a hope

like the mother back in Georgia

searching for her lost son

who went missing thirty years ago

 

so we continue pleading and chasing

chasing and pleading

for a moment that will never come

because like her son

my dreams vanished

to some benighted land

where tomorrow

holds no promise

 

Terry a O’Neal © 2014 from the book The Sparrow’s Plight

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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