Fumbling

Fumbling

I was trying to explain something important to me when I realized that I was ruining the whole thing with my words.
I hated the irony of the moment.
For these years I have breathed for the chance to speak, spoke for the chance to be heard, heard for the chance to be understood.
Yet I find I talk so much I lose touch with the thought altogether.

I would like to poll the average housewife and ask her if her mind is ever quiet;
The career woman if her roller coaster ever stops;
The collegiate if she ever finds time to breathe;
The teenager if she understands anything to come,
As if the conglomerate of the answers would somehow show me the way.
Lacking the fortitude to survey anyone, I repeat "Always be joyful. Give thanks whatever happens," while holding tight to whatever may bear the weight.
I pray.