Poemetry by T.A. Barnhart


that’s how many days,
more or less,
i have been on
this planet.
how many of those
have i actually
been alive?
to be fair,
there were a lot
of good hours
even in the
meh days.
that’s over
hours of life.
that seems like
i’ve had a lot
of opportunity
to get a few
special things done.
and yet….
i feel like
i should complain
to someone
about not getting
a fair shot
at this thing,
about having been
lied to,
about not being told,
hundreds of thousands
of hours ago,
that the clock
is ticking
and no one
is coming
to my rescue.
how many hours remain?
impossible to know.
impossible to count.
my only possibility
is to live
this one
and don’t worry
about the ones
about the ones

©TA Barnhart April 1, 2021