Undercurrent

 

The litany of my day is very simple:

it’s okay

it’s okay

If I say it a million times

I guess I need to

it’s okay

it’s okay

If I can’t fall asleep at bedtime, it’s okay

It’s okay if I’m sleeping  late to compensate

or if I’m tired from a night of wakeful worry

it’s okay

it’s okay

I soothe, I excuse

from dawn to dark, and then some

I look for the joys to be found in little things

and they are there

things for which I can’t help being grateful

sharing a poem, day lilies in bloom

birch trees with quiet leaves that rustle gentle

eating my breakfast oatmeal on the deck,

watching a house wren splashing in the bird bath

but as I enjoy, there’s still that steady whisper

it’s okay

it’s okay

I limit exposure to news of the pandemic,

search out the science, leave out most of the rest.

I’d bargain with God for a host of promising outcomes,

but I’m not a believer, so it wouldn’t help

I sing, I bike, I read poems by the bushel

make wonderful meals, day by day by day

serve stories to any with that kind of hunger

but the drumbeat still continues night and day

it’s okay

it’s okay

It’s okay to leave the dishes until later.

It’s okay if the sewing machine declines to work.

It’s okay if the dog barks at a passing neighbor

It’s okay

It’s okay

It’s okay to be nervous, frightened, angry

Okay to be wishful, wistful, wild or sad

It’s okay to push away what I can’t handle

And when all else fails, yes, it’s okay to cry.

It’s okay

It’s okay 

                                    ~ Kate Lydon Varley

Thanks to a suggestion from my friend Valerie, I have posted this poem of mine.