A Wisdom with Age

I suppose that wisdom gained with age has little

to do with the capacity of learning what is new

with you in the world at large. (I for one wear the

gray and crumbling onslaught of my age well ex-

posed.) No, the sagaciousness gained over time

has more to do with how one best copes with the

aches and pains, the trials and tribulations of the

present everyday; and too, having an introspective

and respectful attitude for your accomplishments

and failures, for life’s memories, both good and bad.

Some folks have crammed a hell of a lot of exper-

ience into a relatively short lifetime span; others,

not so much. I rarely if ever compare myself with

the likes of Alexander the Great, Nelson Mandela,

Sonny and Cher or The Most Interesting Man in the

World. Fortune and fame for me took off on a red

eye flight long before I even reached the terminal.

So, you may be asking yourself where am I headed

with all this gibberish about old age and experience?

Well, don’t let the suspense run your blood pressure

up to unacceptable levels, my life’s travels will never

be chronicled by the likes of Ken Burns. And I won’t

be interviewed by Ellen or Charlie Rose. I have, how-

ever, lived through a thing or two which you ( being

of an ordinary milk-toast breed like me) may perhaps

find either relatable or modestly interesting.

For years I have written poetry and essays about many

places I have visited, both physically and emotionally.

I submit for your consideration a piece written in 2008

when I happened to be in a quite insecure and precar-

iously vulnerable place. Given your own personal story,

I sincerely hope you can relate.

Rented Room at Night

Some hope glows as I wonder,

Is 40-watts sufficient

To light this rented room of mine?

A nagging cough persists,

Coming from the apartment upstairs.

Death enters my dreams

In living surround-sound.

Which path of uncertainty

Brought me to this place,

This asylum for the dying?

Years before, I dropped out

Of high school

Before learning the lessons

Of my senior year,

And I missed out on

Attending the prom.

Something dark inside me

Rumble a deep hunger.

There is a large swirling black hole

At the center of my growing.

And yet, none-the-less, here I lie

Beneath the glowing yellow light

Edison left behind.

Chris Hanch 2-29-08