baltimoreblackwoman

I.

When someone calls me
Young lady,
I don’t know whether
To laugh or cry
Out:

I’m not so young;
65.5 years have I
lived on this Earth!

I’ve done my time,
committed crimes
and paid the fines
for all my
youthful indiscretions.

[And God has told me,
It’s alright, my child.]

I’ve learned lessons
that you are
too deaf to hear
because you think
you are
the Wisest
of the Year.

I’ve earned the right
to speak Truth
and dare you
to call me
old fashioned
square.

II.

I’m more alive
than I’ve ever been,
and proud of
the journey I have made.

Until the doctors come around,
Reminding me that
Life is a Slow Death.

Just when I’ve cleared
one hurdle,
they throw a higher one
in front of me,
and I stumble.

If the train of chronic kidney disease
[a “gift” from my family tree,
I interject]
doesn’t throw me over
the inevitable cliff
[His words,
Not mine],
Its attending conditions will
[I learned after the blood test
he ordered]:

Hyperparathyroidism,
Low Vitamin D,
And Hypercalcemia.

[So that’s the source
of these new, sudden pains?]

All I know is,
I felt fine.

Until the doctor told me
I wasn’t.

And having witnessed
Both my parents succumb
to these same ailments,
under the care—
and exacerbation—
of their Medicine Men,

I say,

The Hell with this!

I’m living my life.

Until the day I die.