Promises Regenerate Like Cells

My bones

creak and moan,

as if they’ve seen too much,

as if they’ve moved through a world too harsh.

At my last physical,

I apologized to my doctor

for not getting enough exercise.

She said,

Don’t apologize to me.

Apologize

to yourself.

I lost count

of how many years

I let my muscles weaken,

just like she warned.

I promised us both

I’d do better.

Physically inactive,

feeling sorry for myself -

understatements of

four aching decades

of eroded self-esteem.

Another day of resting

my glasses on my notepad,

crawling into bed in daylight.

When life gets heavy,

I need

a soft place to land.

Brittle promises

break in my lying hands,

but they’re stronger than I am -

like cells, they regenerate.

(I keep making them.)