I don’t know. (a poem)

I don’t know, oh, there is so much I don’t know.

I don’t know if I will ever feel good, really good.

But I know I’m whistling while I work, unbidden and that’s some small joy.

I don’t know the lyrics to most songs,

but I know I love to sing.

I want the music on all the time.  No matter whether it’s ska, indie, classical, rap, reggae, world or even opera.

It’s what makes me feel safe, the sounds.

And books they make me feel alright.

I know I like order, but I”m messy.  I’ve never learned routines.

I don’t know if I’d change if I knew how.  But I know I like order.

I don’t know if the money will last the month.  Or what we’re having for dinner.

But I know we are here together.

I know, you’ll come home tonight and every night.  And I know you will always have me.

I don’t know if my sister will talk to me or if I’ll ever meet my nephew.

I don’t know what family means any more.  No patriarch, no matriarch.

I don’t know what will happen to us all, what I am supposed to do about it.  I just don’t know that at all.

I don’t know my parent’s history, only the results on our lives.

I don’t know why my dad was so angry,

but I know I stopped it at the door of my home.

I know I have that control and yet I know I’m not the One in control.

I don’t know if what I believe is true, the Truth.

But I know it gets me through.

I don’t know who I’d be without that belief and so I choose to believe.

I don’t know why I had children, but I know that I wouldn’t have found myself without them.

I know I am becoming the mother they need and I am so grateful that I am entrusted with their minds and hearts.

I don’t know what I can give them, but if it were just one thing

I would give each one

confidence.

I wake up most every day scared.

I want them to face the world bravely.  That I know.

Most days I don’t know what I don’ t

Know.  But today, I am sure that these things are true.

I love and I am loved.

I am a mother and that is the  most serious thing I will ever do.

I am profoundly aware of how my parents made me who I am.

I am undaunted.

In the end I don’t have to know as long as I keep whistling and choosing to believe.

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