A Birthday Poem

I drank it deep

Sucked the juicy marrow

Rode the waves in the cold current

Dunked my soul in heaven’s fire

I’ve also slept through my calling

Pacified by screens and sensory hopes

Of God in a bottle or scene

Wasted whole days, how many do I have left?

It’s a crossroads, a cosmic utensil

Every year a sacred “selah”

You exist until you don’t

So toast to another lap around the sun

Because another is not a guarantee

What will the next 5 be like?

Will there be 10?

Will I see my kids get married

Will there be another world war?

The fermented barley in my glass

Aids my existential musing

So I swirl and sip

And it gives me permission to pursue

All the grief and joy still in utero

The potentials of this life

Birthdays fall short

Always let you down

But maybe that’s the point

Expectations keep me from seeing that

All is grace

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