I’ve thought so little of you that now
you seek your revenge in the grinding
of kneecaps, the tightening of hamstrings,
loss of elasticity, the skin. So long neglected,
you weren’t even an afterthought. I apologize
each morning with a handful of pills. Oh,
scarred flesh of me in the mirror, as I turn the page
on another decade, I bless the stretch marks
on my stomach, evidence of those dead years
when food was my one friend. I bless
the crow’s-feet at the corners of my eyes,
proof of days spent under the sun. I bless the gray
in my beard, reminder that sometimes,
despite ourselves, wisdom appears.
I bless our breaking down, dear body,
pray the process is slow, that when time
confronts us with its choices, you’ll teach me
when to hold on, when to let go.