doubt



She says, “what do
you need it for.”
Classic. I expect to hear 
nothing else. So like her. 
Rote by rote. Automatic.
Not comforting. Except maybe to 
reassure herself. So as not to feel her
own shame or blame or pain. I say, “you are right” because for once she
is right. So many times before a fierce
need arose to defend my choices. How dare she comment. How dare she stand as judge. How dare she cast doubt. Cast doubt. Cast doubt. Maybe
because she is long dead and I only
imagined her words that my reply “you are right” burst forth. I don’t need it. It will gather dust and die with me. When all is said and done no one will care but me. Me. Me. And that’s the point isn’t it. I don’t need it. Not really. But I love having it. I. Love. Having. It.
© Karen Casady 2019

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