50 years acting defensively,
A shield against the attacks and abuse,
Barbed words, scorn and contempt.
Lashing out inappropriately,
The only path known,
A form of protection
A semblance of normality,
Instead ending up
Disconnected,
Lonely,
Alone.

Now discovering another way to be,
Dragging myself from the enticing
Well-worn familiar slippery path
Of melancholy and self-flagellation,
To flower filled meadows
And babbling brook
And choosing my own way
Through the long sweet grass,
To as yet undreamt
And unimagined,
But long overdue,
Pleasures, delights, and food for the soul.