the not knowing

This is a poem I wrote on May 22 last year, two days after a tornado devastated the town of Moore, Oklahoma, ripping apart two elementary schools and a hospital.  Just a month earlier, the finish line of the Boston Marathon had erupted in bomb blasts.  Now, as the location of Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 and its passengers continues to evade discovery nearly two weeks after going missing, it seems sadly appropriate again.

It’s the not knowing
that wears you down: balancing
as best you can on
a tightrope strung between hope
against hope and facing facts.


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