What Did You Think?

By: Chris Bursk

That you'd get older,
old enough
to make sense of things
that never made sense
before, clarity
a sort of reward
for living this long,
the recompense
for making so many mistakes?

Did you think you'd stop
walking away
from what should be faced
and facing
what you should
walk away from?

Did you hope for,
if not wisdom,
at least patience, if not
a highway, at least
a trail you could follow?

Did you think the rain would fall
more understandingly
on your face, the wind
let you off the hook,
a fish that'd fought so long
it deserved to sleep now
at the pond's bottom?

Did you hope to be so old
you'd have worn the world out,
won from it
begrudging acceptance,
to live in this body
so long you'd stop
yearning for what
it couldn't give, your mind
less greedy?

That you'd tire
of worry, terror?

Did you think
you deserved better?

Better than what?
The trees?
The stones? The dried up creek?

Did you think you'd be
better prepared
for what was to come?

Think again.