Moments When You Finally Know
and a Song of Myself
They come to everyone at different times — the
Moments.
The moment when your last parent dies and you realize
they took the last vestiges of your childhood with them;
the moment when you consider the
possibility that God doesn’t have your back.
The moment when you realize
that unconditional love
died with your last parent.
The moment you realize it’s possible that
they were probably incapable of unconditional love.
The moment you realize that pretty much
everyone is incapable of it. The moment you
decide that’s all right: we love, and were loved, enough.
The realization that the world is not
what it seems; when your history changes in a flash
to a new story, and you don’t come out looking as good
as you once did.
The realization that hard work may never be enough.
The sudden knowledge that
doing the right thing may in and of itself
be the only reward —
that liars, cheaters, rule-breakers,
and low-road-takers oftentimes win the game.
The moment you find out
how very few true friends
you actually have;
the moments you find out
who the true friends are.
The realization that life is too short
to bother with people you could give
less than two shits about.
The moment you say, no, without guilt.
The moment you say, enough, without anger.
When you know the time to say, goodbye, and to whom,
without remorse.
The realization that good literature feels holier
than scripture. That everyone is a liar, including you.
The softer realization that it’s not so much lies,
but things our minds need to believe
as we attempt to make sense of our inner
and outer worlds.
The times you act with complete selflessness,
and how sometimes, although worthy, it can hurt.
Those majestic moments when you realize
you gave your children
the best parts of yourself; then
the sinking acceptance that they got
some darker pieces, too.
Believing that everyone is doing their best, then
finding out that ‘doing their best’ is
double-talk for an unwillingness to change.
Becoming aware that maybe you’re not alone —
then realizing that is only a matter of perspective,
nothing more.
Accepting you don’t really know
what you think you know — and that what you do know
is a lot less than what you don’t, or ever will.
Realizing that goes for everyone else, too.
Understanding that when you
agree to disagree with someone,
a wall is erected that cannot ever really
be breached.
The moment when you realize that in the
grand scheme of things, what you do
doesn’t really matter —
and yet, in the face of that, getting up,
every, single day,
sitting at your computer,
pouring out the lining of your guts,
the marrow of your bones,
you hope against all hope
that it will matter, sometime, to someone,
Somewhere —
Someday —
then holding that hope close
while you drift into sleep at night,
despite how hard the day’s battle;
despite whether or not you emerged victorious,
or bloody and broken; parched, famished and
desperate for respite and relief.
As you drift, you think of the many moments
that have brought you to this one —
then deciding to be humble enough
to be grateful,
and courageous enough
to embrace all these moments
that will surely,
chillingly, and
as certain as Time itself,
pass through you,
around you,
and with you,
again,
again,
again.
— J.A. Carter-Winward
