August 11, 2017
Photo by Paul Murphy
Great Questions of Life
A New Poem by Hilde Oleson
I have been tortured so much of life by the great questions.
The older I get, the farther I seem to be from the answers.
Why am I here?
Why have I lingered past others more worthy?
What am I supposed to be doing?
Am I doing it?
But now I have a small new question.
It is no longer spring.
In a corner of my garden a cluster of green is still vibrant
In a spot that once bloomed with the royalty of violets.
Today, after weeks of walking by,
There is one very new, very small violet beginning to bloom.
It ducks its small head low, as if shy.
I wonder if it is lonely as I sometimes am for living
When all of our peers have gone on.
How can I comfort it?
Should I pick it and put it in a vase
And watch it wither and die?
This is one answer I know.