Is age really just a number? Turning 55 made me wonder… who’s counting? So, I wrote this spoken word poem to explore what it means to embrace life after the big 50.
No grand epiphanies here, just the raw, honest truth of getting older and loving it. Because at 55, I’m not here to preach about the serene wisdom that supposedly comes with age. This poem is my tribute to the intense, vibrant life lessons that only years can teach. Let’s celebrate the process!
P.S. If you’ve ever felt like age is more than a number, this one’s for you.
There’s a certain magic in embracing the contradictions of life. In finding joy in both the quiet moments and the wild adventures. In realizing that wisdom doesn’t always come in the package we expect – sometimes it’s wrapped in laughter, sometimes in tears, and often in the most ordinary of moments…
Listen
To Still Kicking:
Still Kicking
Age?
It’s just a number, they say—
But who’s counting?
Each year is a checkmark in the book.
At 50,
they told me it would be wisdom,
but it’s just life…
unfiltered, raw, like the first sip of morning coffee—
a little bitter, a little strong,
a lot more potent than I’d been warned.
I turned—not silver, not gray—
just a blend of color, vibrant like that paint you splashed on the canvas when you were feeling wild,
not faded, but deep, like a groove in vinyl, spinning a tune that’s just getting better with every play.
They told me—
“By this time, you’d have it all figured out,
all smoothed out, ironed and pressed,
like you’re some kind of well-worn dress.”
But nah, I’m still wrinkling at the edges,
still trying on different shades of ‘me,’
never quite fitting into any box…
Thank God, I have outgrown them all.
And here I am, in my 50s… still running,
but not from anything,
no more chasing shadows,
I’m running toward, into
the heart of the things that make me tick,
with a beat that’s stronger,
a rhythm that’s mine alone,
no metronome can keep this pace.
And no, I’m not done,
I’m settling into that comfy chair,
book in hand, tea by my side—
but that doesn’t mean I’m fading away.
I’m here—
alive, kicking, and unapologetically me,
finding the sparks in the quiet moments,
the fire in the simple joys.
I don’t need to burn bright all the time,
sometimes, it’s enough to just glow,
gently, warm, true.
I’m hitting 55,
and if this is what they call mid-life,
then I’m here for it—
No grand epiphanies, just the truth of it all,
the way the morning light spills across the floor,
the comfort of knowing who I am,
and the freedom in not giving a damn
about what doesn’t matter.
(08/2024, © Julia Delaney)
Forget gray hairs and fading dreams. Let’s celebrate the depth, richness, and unfiltered experience of aging.
Be Alive 🌱
Love ❤️, Julia
We’re in this together—every step, every breath, every heartbeat.
Healing through Loss
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