Assuming I inherited the curse
of fierce impatience from my hasty mom,
I tried to justify it. Sure it’s worse
to suffer, I asserted with aplomb,
complaint or pain in silence! Not my goal,
I told my friends, and yet I wasn’t pleased
with how I rushed. Attempting to control
my dash, I soon relapsed like one diseased.

I saw, I diagnosed, and yet I missed
the obvious and big discrepancy
in static Mom and me. I faced a list
when I was young – I teemed with urgency
and obligations daily raced between.
I have the leisure now to be serene.