I keep company with what I know
I cannot predict or control.
Every second for sure, but I forget,
mercifully.
My reaction, my intention, my hopes, yes,
but nothing else.
I check as if reading a thermometer.
More energy today mom?
How's your appetite?
Pain?
She finally asks me to stop.
It matters though,
this false sense of knowing a thing, as if...
I knew the future.
We are quieter together,
very much ourselves,
a walking patience.
Cancer grows or shrinks beyond
what we can measure day by day,
beyond what we understand,
so we wait.
I had no idea I could feel quiet
in the visible presence of uncertainty.


Salon.com
Comments
I'm sorry to learn this poem touches so close to your home.
I’m sorry your mother and you are going through this.
Sending prayers…
~R~