Here’s the thing about aging
Slowly, or maybe not so slowly
You lose the ability to conquer
Even your own body
Much less the world

Once not so very long ago
I tried to end a war
Once not so very long ago
I tried to conquer capitalism
Then I tried to conquer parenting
The world would gasp in wonder
As I revealed what perfect parenting looked like
I think my now grown children would agree
On this if nothing else
I did not conquer parenting
Nor marriage, for that matter

My career was, as they say,
Rich and rewarding
But I failed to conquer disease
Or even USA health insurance

Not so very many years ago
I tried to conquer some rather modest
Remodeling in my home
I had some notable success
But LO! these many years later
That small molding bridging the floor
And the larger molding on the wall
Whose proper names are clearly
Beyond my ability to conquer right now
That small molding remains missing
As I wearied of the battle

Now in my 70s
It becomes somewhat embarrassing
Even in a poem
To tell of my latest battles
For what poetry should I write
About what my own physician
Somewhat cavalierly refers to as
Fecal incontinence

Yes, dear reader,
My battles and my conquests
Much less my defeats
Are best kept private these days

That is why I no longer dream of conquest
Or victories or battles
But live grateful for peace
In my bowels if nowhere else