now more than ever
amidst such turbulence,
matters that we engage,
talk about and around
all we think we understand,
though we understand little,
think even less.
What we think we know is
process-filtered.
It matters that we’re wrong:
that we live mistakes enough
to learn, sit beside them all,
thank each for making itself
known, prune the vine of ego,
weed the condoned pursuits
of perfect.
Now that more than half
my life is gone, I need
good soil to grow.
Written beside “It Matters” by Laura Foley
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