I feel like the proverbial "old dog":
The one who can't learn a new trick, looking
At the new year expecting to find hope
And excitement, having no idea
How to actually make that happen.
My old tricks have proven unsuccessful,
And I scoff at the new philosophies
Designed to make me believe in myself,
When that's not the problem. I can believe
All I want, but my world has other plans.
I take a step forward, but I stumble,
I'm tripped, distracted, or derailed, often
All at the same time. My ambition aims
Higher than my energy lasts; my will
Constantly beaten down by a desease
Both exhausting and unpredictable.
So every day I start over, every
Year I dive in, not knowing if the pool
Is filled. Will I splash or crash? "Cannonball!"
I cry, an old trick, but still my best one.
Caren E. Salas