Sometimes this is all I have, that I know about myself. It is enough. You see I never understood the arguments. Never. Life is harsh. It wears at you, like an old wash board over and over, grating and ribbing. As a young girl I was a peacemaker, pulled from force to force. All I wanted was quite and happy. I know myself. I have a strength I rarely see, but that washboard of a life can wear that knowing away, I must remember myself for me and my family.
In my quietness I know myself.