The poem
I kept my answers small and kept them near; Big questions bruised my mind but still I let Small answers be a bullwark to my fear.
The huge abstractions I kept from the light; Small things I handled and caressed and loved. I let the stars assume the whole of night.
But the big answers clamoured to be moved Into my life. Their great audacity Shouted to be acknowledged and believed.
Even when all small answers build up to Protection of my spirit, still I hear Big answers striving for their overthrow.
And all the great conclusions coming near.
This is a wonderful poem to read out loud. Big questions do bruise the mind, and small things bring comfort and knowing. In the end, the big questions almost force themselves upon her, and she must deal with them. Big questions are never far. For example, most of us take living wills for granted, but for parents that have severely handicapped children, it is a reality--along with custodial care, housing..., that must be dealt with. Donating organs? To be buried or creamated? Stay married for the "sake of the children". Big questions.
Isn't it something how life really brings its own set of complications? (I am not seeking answers, just pondering along the lines that this poem alludes to.)