Golden

When I turned 50
It scared me some–
how would I ever live up to
the expectations
of being golden?

Then something changed inside
The organs I thought were
dying from the inside out–
an old heart, and my guts
began re-knitting
due to prayer
and resolving to grow.

Sometimes the music lays me outright
belly down, face to the floor
uncovering the secrets (lies)
that I tell myself
like that old favourite
‘”‘Everything is going to be alright.’

Raze me, and peel off the layers–
In time, you would have
found me out, anyhow.
Raze me, and
uncover my skeleton
whiplashed, with
hand outstretched–

Reaching for the notes
each stanza screaming
I am pro-life
and you will not put me
under
before my time