Worried? Who Me?

My dear friend Anne led me to this poem and it fit me so well I just had to write it down.  In writing it down I just had to share it.  In sharing it I simply had to say something.  Here's that something.

Ed and I are in the throws of "Are we coming or going?"   Are our decisions good ones?  We are aging.   Will we do it well?  Our world is suffering.   Will it recover?

I alone have other worries, like my son.  Oh how he hates me to worry.   I assure him I am not.  But I do.   And, my new daughter, Yessi.  I worry she is missing her family in China too much.  I worry.  I'm a mom.  

I learned to worry from my mom; and she hers.  And, like Mary, I found that worrying led to nothing.  Yet, I worry.

And then, one of my favorite blog's, Bumfuzzle, arrived in the morning post.  Pat writes, after viewing the caves at Gruyas de Cacahuamilpa National Park,  "A place like this can make you realize that your entire life amounts to nothing more than a drop of water on the cave floor."  

Aw, perspective…

~~~

I Worried

I worried a lot.  Will the garden grow, will the rivers 

flow in the right direction, will the earth turn

as it was taught, and if not how shall

I correct it?

Was I right was I wrong, will I be forgiven,

can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows

can do it and I am, well,

hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,

am I going to get rheumatism,

lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.

And gave it up.  And took my old body

and went out into the morning,

and sang.

~ Mary Oliver