I hang up, and you ask me if all is well —
“Not a worry, not a worry.”
And you resume your point: what was it now?
Politics and society, and our worries for the future
And you’re there and I see you there and I hear you there
But that’s there.
You’re there, not here, and I’m here, not there
Because it is a worry.

The world of kings and emperors is far away
And the storm yet further pushes me
Away from that world
And it’s not that I don’t understand
The importance of engagement, and the ripples of that world upon mine
The tsunami that a yonder quake can birth in mine
But a storm is here
The storm is here, it’s all I see
And dear, you speak of kings and courts but
I can’t see them
And I want to talk and I want to engage
In a discourse of our minds and our society but
I’m here, not there,
Because it is a worry.

It is a worry.
And you are there and you are talking
And I want to be there with you,
But there’s a haze of rain between
you
and
me
A haze upon my optic nerve
And I can barely see you there
And I can barely make out words
In the cacophony of the call and the storm
And the stranger’s voice
And my mind racing through a million questions, a million what-ifs
And my heart giving chase
And your voice
Approaching noise
What is signal, what is noise?
It’s all a storm.

I lied.
It is a worry.
And yet I’m an adult and adults
Have it all figured out
Right?
And I’m ashamed to admit it but
I don’t.
And it is a worry.