WEEKS LATER

Out here on this empty road, with only
the tiny vibrations of the highway,
and the horizon, I wonder if we’re going
to make it home tonight.

People will eventually be gone—
I don’t know how it will feel, for youth
to give way to mortality. We’ve spent
most of our days leaving things behind,
not sure what will be missed
in the future. I don’t know anything,
except that change will come.
Will we ever really feel settled?

We spend so much time
wondering if we’re
walking in the wrong direction—
if our best intentions
are enough to find our way.
We don’t have answers, but we have
questions. No solution, but a burden.
They will get us by.

And the morning.
They will all get us by.

(April 24, 2009)