By Nancy Scott McBride
Once a week I go through this:
I wake up and ask myself what I’m doing here.
I question my purpose in life, now that the children
are grown and I have no grandchildren nearby.
I wonder why I’m still hanging around when so many
“significant others” have gone on.
I ask myself what my job is, now that the house and
garden are maintained by someone else
and my husband does much of the cooking.
Who am I when I can’t put pen to paper because
my muse is out of touch, or when I can’t
find anything in the library to read and
there‘s nothing I need or want to shop for?
Once a week I go through this, and every time,
right on cue, the answer comes to me. I’m here on
this Monday morning to simply be who I am,
and to know that the earth, with all its pain and
problems, is still as good as God said it was
when he made it.
Nancy Scott McBride studied poetry at NYU and worked as an editor on the New York Quarterly. She has been writing, publishing and giving readings of her work for many years.