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.