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Sunday, September 30, 2018


All the time, questions.

There are days when a little certainty

would help me make it through.

Don't take this complaint too literally, please.

I assure you I'm not looking for the smug certainty

evinced by those who say they have all the answers.

Count on it,

their rigidity will end in tears.

Though I'm tired of my non-stop questions,

I'd rather have them and their provoking curiosity,

their soul-engaging insecurity,

than all the arrogant breast-thumping

of those who have the answers

and who expect us to swallow and follow.


No, I take back my initial weariness with questions.

There are worse things for the soul

than a little uncertainty.



Copyright © 2018 Ann Tudor
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