In my fiftieth year,
on the ascent to the date,
strange thoughts and feelings
come over the horizon.
I look at them on my way up.
They're out of focus,
so I can't be sure if we're
on course for collision.
As the one in front approaches,
I am surprised by its anger.
Running full pelt towards me,
it aims directly at my heart.
It breaks all known rules
of engagement or behaviour.
It hurls itself and whacks its wounding weapon
across my defending arm.
I am shattered and defeated, tearful
at this unprovoked and unmitigated attack
and I bow myself down,
to avoid another onslaught.
But my ascent it unavoidable
and the attack becomes relentless,
A fearful barrage of reproaches,
Like a rain of lethal arrows hitting home.
Slowly I become accustomed
To the pain of this awful wave
And straighten my back in order
To reach the summit of my dignity.
Pounding, pounding pounding,
As surprising as a crowd of bicycles,
Careering over the brow towards you.
Their width all encompassing.
I persist.
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