What If There Aren’t Answers?

Growing up I was always sure
That when the sign came
That said “This way or that way”
I’d be able to smile and step
And prance toward and forward
Fork on fork on fork and running
Me, weaving into futures exact
Never having to glance at a map.

Now I’m holding my breath
And hoping that I don’t grow up
Because I still need time to get there
I’ll walk backwards, dammit
To delay those crossroads forever
Because that sign is scaring me
And there are a million exits off this highway
And a million of them look fine
And a million of them look wrong
And I can’t tell which.

What if there aren’t any answers?
What if this way is okay? And that way is easy?
What if what motivates me is changing?
Or maybe nothing…
Because I’m sliding forward toward
Bends in the road I can’t conceive of
Why run to it, then? Why run?

What if I have no proclivity?
What if nothing comes naturally?
And I don’t have the heart to jump in
And figure things out
Or fall in love with something—
Fall in love with someone?
Intelligently, gently, beautifully?


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