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by Edna Wallace, LMFT

The story of
a caveman 
painting a tiger
on the wall 
of his cave, 
then running 
from the cave, 
screaming
“tiger! tiger!”
That caveman is me,
quivering with fear 
at the pictures
I’ve painted in my mind, 
I’ve amassed. 
Mostly … 
about the kids—
things going wrong, 
every which way,
with home, work, 
partner,
illness, injury,
accidents. 
Things ending,
going badly, 
going wrong. 
My tigers
roiling inside me,
telling me
that which I don’t know,
which doesn’t exist,
which I can’t control. 
I can only rest
with what exists now, 
with the flowers 
and smiles
of today,
with what I know now.
I can rest…
and shoo the
tigers away.