It’s three in the morning
I lay awake wondering if
I’ll ever know what I’m doing.

Back in college, I remember believing
older grownups had their
lives all figured out,

didn’t worry and panic at every turn,
and maybe some of them did.

They sure made it look that way.

Not like me near forty and
still stumbling around in the dark about
where I’m headed

wondering if any decision I make
will ever feel right

wondering if it’s me or
if it’s because the world is collapsing

and nothing I do can fix it,

everything feels insignificant
compared to the flames fanning toward us

compared to the domino of disasters
cascading before our eyes

compared to decisions my children
will have to make.