The Risk of Ignorance

In my childhood home,

not knowing was a risk.

Don't know what tone

of voice to use?

Risk being punished

for being rude.

Don't remember what

time to be home?

Too early risks

a thorough degrading.

"What, your friends don't like you?"

Too late is

an obvious punishment.

Not sure if I like something?

Just an indecisive brat,

didn't deserve options anyways.

I wasn't taught

that questions lead to answers,

instead the rule was simple—

if you don't know something,

be prepared to face the consequences.

So I did my best

to learn as much

as one brain can fit

driving myself into overdrive

constant panic

constantly discovering

more unknowns

which meant

never safe.

Until I began to ask questions

I didn't want the answers to,

then the risk was everywhere

damned if I do

damned if I don't.

Questions like,

"What did I do

to deserve my childhood?"

Answers that said,

"The world is cruel

and senseless

and out of your control,"

made me start to

wish I'd never wondered.

But one evening

after a particularly

terrible tumble

I laid on the ground

looking at life upside down

and started to

create new kinds of questions

like,

"What now?"

and,

"What next?"

Most importantly though

I began to ask myself,

"But, really,

what's the worst

that can happen now

if I don't know?"

And wouldn't you know it,

I finally found a question

whose answer didn't need to be known.