It was unthinkable, back when
my without-resumé or bona fide
job was Dad: our father,
leader, wizard, fixer of all
things and people broken,
savior of my tribe; shaman,
vet, and driver out of all demons.
Despite my foibles,
hidden as many were—
we managed to cope.
Burdened with adversity and misguided history
we owned our piece of the world,
we held the keys that controlled the universe,
wherein I was (am?) suddenly
no longer the center to which they would turn.
Call it what is, that’s life, dismissing
whenever shit happens, when I’m forced
to admit I don’t know why. To say
I was wrong about so much.
I think and think again about it all,
the ultimatum. It wasn’t you. It’s me.
Look both ways when seeking the mysterious purpose of life,
or finding of the true self, or taking on the vocation mantle of service.
Mind the gaps for the distractions of relief are dear.
Our Literary Journey 
Mixed up in the wrong about so much is surely an even larger quantity of what you were right about.
It’s when we look back that we see them; rarely when we are in it!
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So true, Dale.
We do the best we can, but so often we want a redo. However, if there is a next time, I got it. 🙂
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🙂
Redos cannot be done so best not to waste too much time on the coulda, shoulda, wouldas, I say 😉
As for those next times, oh man… you and me both!
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Ain’t life wonderfully confusing? 🙂
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It’s what makes it wonderful, I say!
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I second your say.
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We are so in cahoots!
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True. We should rule Earth. 😇
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😇😈
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We’re not older, we just realize we don’t know shit anymore. 😉
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That’s it, Kathrine.
Yep. When I realized what I didn’t know, everything got better. 🙂
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