It takes courage to stand 
on a spire, peering down
parachute strapped to your 
back, then jump

It takes courage to run 
into the burning fire
or face an unseen foe
who shoots you

But a slower courage
a brave glacial courage 
is wanted for that bullet
time of age, advancing

years falling past, endless
echoes of your eighteen
year old, thirty-something
fifty-ish birthday selves

advising, revising 
and asking why does the
simple act of waking
and standing seem so hard 

when once it was so easy?