To Silence My Mind without Silencing Myself - poem of parenting in the 2020's

To silence my mind without silencing myself

is the single greatest desire. Suffice it to say

it is difficult to put fingers to keys when the dishes

are towered in kitchen sink, and laundry

festers in hampers. How excessive

hope that the plot will get easier to figure

out when it only gets. more complicated.

When you want to solve the gun problem,

the healthcare problem, but you can’t even

solve your head problems. When your baby

looks up with those oak-colored eyes

and you can’t persist in that moment

to soak in the life that you helped give because

you wonder so far ahead. Wanting

to get it right, so you read books about discipline

to avoid being spanked and berated

the way you were, how to excel in language accusation,

or how not to be a misogynist, and avoid

lesson of toxic masculinity. But you know its

not all in your hands. To silence the mind

from conjuring up chaos that is the abundance

of life itself. The unknown cosmic lottery

we are all playing. How you want to type

out a story, write a legacy, have something

to remember you by in the annals of history

while mesmerized with the complete pointlessness

of it all. But your baby. Your child is right there,

scratching your bare stomach as you read

My Shadow is Pink to let him know that

you’ll love him no matter who he chooses

to be. And you worry you won’t get that right.

You tried pills before to stay in the moment,

to silence the voices you deemed anxiety,

but only one character was, the rest

were hyperactivity and depression. To silence

my mind without silencing myself,

maybe an impossible dream

in times like these.

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