It Doesn’t Matter Anymore
By John Herlihy

With a joyous heart, I am a bird ready to soar;
With a broken heart, into the heavens I implore;
The sweet memory of my beloved mother I adore;
When treated unjustly or with disrespect, I swore;
Sometimes, I had to leave through the back door;
Now, many decades later, it doesn’t matter anymore.

The days came and went with little consideration;
My vices and virtues showed a meager moderation;
My loose passions often turned into a conflagration;
My petty little fears often manifested as hesitation;
At times, it seemed as if I got off at the wrong station;
Now, many decades later, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Feet in wet sand on some distant tropical shore;
Taught many hours some students thought a bore;
There were times when everything seemed a chore;
I ran many a mile in my time, so my feet are sore;
I fell in love many times, but once she was a whore;
Now, many decades later, it doesn’t matter anymore.

I lived in many countries, each of them a unique nation;
I eked out a sober living, adapting to my simple ration;
I wrote a pack of poems but never much of a notation;
The slow aging process began to seem like a purgation;
Many intense emotions have reached their saturation;
Now, many decades later, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Then, there is the question of one’s moody ups and downs;
Happiness - ya, fear - yep, and sadness – yo, inward bound;
Depression tied me up in ribbons like a package all around;
When my face fell into repose, it projected a perpetual frown;
Sometimes I needed to be alone without so much as a sound;
Now, many decades later, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Now if lucky and some time left, something does still matter;
I have accomplished what I set out to do, with no lasting regrets;
I cared for my parents until the end, this memory never forgets;
I wrote a number of essays and poems as my enduring assets;
I took risks and pursued the unknown will be my key epithets;
These are some things that continue to matter so much more.