Occupational Hazard

I, too, am still trying to find 
             ways to go on, the courage
to look daily griefs in the face
instead of pretending not to see them.

When I became a mother, I learned
             what it means to always keep one
eye open, my ear cocked for the merest
sound of danger. Even now, with grown

daughters, I still check
             the weather by means of other signs.
Pushing my grocery cart past bins
of shining produce, flowers,

little boxes of temptation right by
              the cash registers, my mind forms
the same questions—are they safe,
are they fed, are they faring 

well enough for the world to not
             destroy them or their joy? In my gut,
hope jostles for space with the acids
of worry as I will my hands not to shake.