Children

Copyright © 1998 Property of Deborah K. Fletcher. All rights reserved.

September 22, 1988

Why are we here?
Why are any of us here?
What is the meaning
Of anything?
What is the purpose
To everything?
I ask,
But no one answers.
No one can answer,
For no one knows.
We are like children
Struggling to understand
A grownup world
Of confusion.
We are like children
Trying to learn
Complicated equations
To find a simple answer.
We ask questions,
But have only each other
To seek answers
To our questions.
No one of us
Can find the answers
To questions
Of philosophical adulthood.
We must wait -
Impatient children -
To learn the answers
As we grow up.

For Nana, whose presence influenced my childhood more than either of us should admit - you bade me be patient, and I have tried - now in my youthful impatience I dedicate this shadow of my soul to you.

Comments, constructive criticism, etc, about this poem are greatly appreciated.

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