Trying

I’m trying. I swear I am trying…
to hold myself together,
physically,
mentally,
spiritually.

I’m trying. I swear I am trying…
to find my center,
equanimity,
core strength,
balance. 

I’m trying.
But my efforts are not producing any sort of result.

I look to my teacher,
my boss,
my loved ones
for some sort of validation that my efforts matter…
if only in a very small way.
But they just question why I verbalize uncertainty.

I sob a bit,
feel sorry for myself a bit,
and even question if I should just give up completely. 

Then I think back to when I was asked if T’s efforts mattered.
I couldn’t convince him that they did,
that he mattered.

Now, nearly 10 years after his passing,
I find pictures of him in my son’s backpack,
in his books,
by his bed.

I know that his is hurting,
missing him so badly,
and I know that I have no choice but to continue
doing whatever I can to hold it together,
stay centered, focused, present…
and just be myself.