I am no god to grant permission,
nor to watch your struggle
and pretend I know any more.
I want to lift you into the air,
to hug you close to my face, but
you are a grown woman now.
I flounder along in my own life.
The easy problems— to kiss
your stubbed toe, and all be okay—
have grown exponentially,
until I am as lost and incapable
as I think you feel. We all subsist,
scrabbling among the rocks searching
for that tasty bit of explanation
that will cause it all to fall neatly
into place, which never happens.
We are all lost in our worlds,
doing our best to love each other.
(July 3, 2018)