Midlife Ashes

Mid-life ashes are feeding the garden beds.

Surgically cutting at each of the capitalist threads.

One by one, the habits loosen as men exit center stage.

Chain-links are flying; no wonder we’re taught to never age.

Truth washes in – sometimes a rain, sometimes a flood.

A hushed and feared sanctity, like tears or monthly blood.

The world is breaking open, or maybe it’s just my aging eyes.

Mid-life ashes are falling, as they peer through every clever disguise.

©️2026 Cristen Writes