Some Two Years In-between

Some two years in-between.
Some two years in-between.
I can feel something slipping by.
My destiny.
But is this part of it?
I lie stagnant.
No feeling, no desire.
It has all drained out of me.
That burning zeal TO DO.
I feel as though it is gone.
My destiny slipping away –
And if these are gone,
Is life worth living?
I do not want to regret.
Perhaps, I dream. Oh, I am dreaming?
It could be said, in some future, to be the most significant part
Of my life –
The two years in-between
When I saw the true state of my world,
The losing beauty,
And when I paused for breath.
If I didn’t, I might have died,
As my passion(s) might have consumed me –
Maybe, even so far as when I lie on my death bed,
Thinking I did things too fast,
Too hurriedly,
I didn’t enjoy it.
That is the death.
When life was not as pleasant –
As memories were never savoured.
Because before this time,
All my achievements are in a haze,
As I was not looking at them,
But another future goal.
Now, in the middle of these two years,
Where achievements are short in supply,
Close to drought-stricken,
I find myself enjoying the little water left.
I am sure if any future achievements come,
The joy would be much more,
And the humility even better.
For I was once there,
And have been brought so low,
Wandering aimlessly,
No reason why.
Perhaps, to pause for breath.
Perhaps, to find joy in what I do.
For what is the essence of having all if
You don’t feel like jumping and laughing all the time?
When it is nothing but expected.
Now, life won’t be as expected.
It would never be for me again.
And in some way,
I feel my zeal is burning more intensely,
But softly, calmly, barely noticeable.
Because life is not expected again.
It is wanted.

Adaudo Anyiam-Osigwe from her book of poems A Little Understanding: Poems from the End of Childhood to the Beginning of Adulthood