Age of Lichens

A poem that invites you to find strength in change and peace in the passing of time.

Seventy approaches, 
as time flashes forward. 
I look back on years 
spread wide,
some rushed, 
some slow,  
some held close, 
others slipping away.  

I think of lichens,  
small yet full inside,  
firmly fixed,  
never breaking apart.  
They live in quiet balance—  
no fight, no need to win—  
just being,  
together,  
one.  

Maybe that’s how I want to be now—  
not pulled this way and that,  
but steady,  
whole.   

I shed many roots,
or maybe I burned some 
trying to grow fast.  
But what if I find  
new ways to hold on?  
Lichens grip air, light,  
spaces unseen,  
drawing strength  
from places I never thought to look.  

I see
how they start 
on empty stones,  
how life begins 
where nothing seems possible.  
So, 
I have time, 
to begin again, 
even now,
even when years 
feel like rubble left after storms.  

When things get too hard,  
I can pause,  
quiet the rush,  
rest without guilt,  
wait for light to return.  
That patience, 
that stillness,  
that’s survival too.  

Time moves fast, 
but I’ve learned  
to measure it differently—  
in slow growth, 
quiet strength,  
in being here.
Now.

Author’s Note

As someone who has watched many seasons pass (in other words: I’m old, folks!), I found myself drawn to lichens—those small, overlooked organisms that carry so much life inside them and survive in places where few others can. Their resilience and gentle persistence felt like a fitting mirror for thoughts about aging and living fully in later years.

I wanted to explore ideas of balance and strength without struggle, of holding on without losing oneself, and of finding new ways to belong beyond what we might expect. The poem is a conversation with myself, about how it feels (as someone on the other side of retirement age) to approach seventy with both acceptance and hope, to see time not as something rushing by but as something that can be measured in quiet growth and steady presence.

This piece is meant to be a gentle reminder that life continues in many forms, and that even when faced with change or challenge, there is room to pause, to rest, and to begin again. It’s about embracing patience and finding peace in who we are now, while still dreaming about what might come next.

I hope these words offer a moment of calm and reflection in your own journey.

Upcoming…

• January’s writing prompt:

  One Hundred-Word Wonders, 21 January 2026

  This year, every prompt will come directly from movie titles.

  For those who want a head start, the first prompt of the year comes from a classic movie: An Affair to Remember. Write in exactly 100 words, a story, poem, or creative non-fiction in any genre, using the prompt. Pieces should be exactly 100 words, no more or less. The 100-word count does not include the title. Hold your piece until the 21st!

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