Middle age. Sometimes “The Scream” is the work of art that best captures this stage of life. Youthful illusions depart and we are left in the setting sun, protesting feebly against the indignities of the second half of life in a world gone mad.
I am a woman controlled.
Remember this; I never scream.
Yet I stood a form apart
Watching my other frenzied self
Beaten by words and wounds
Make in silence a mighty scream —
A scream that the wind took up
And thrust through the bars of night
Beyond all reason’s final rim.
The Scream, by May Miller (an excerpt)