who am I?, a terza rima

Do I trust myself to know who I am?
At thirty years of age I should embrace
Myself and not fear that I am a sham.

So many others seem to age with grace.
They know what they can do and who they want.
They never seem to second guess their place.

The fear of commitment and not knowing haunt
My dreams, both waking and sleeping. I cannot
Imagine life with peaceful sleep. So gaunt

Are my eyes from insomnia, I sought
A doctor’s pills to put an end to strife,
But still constant uncertainties I’ve fought. 

What do I want out of this privileged life?
Can I be happy with a husband or wife?

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Current, a poem

The wind in my hair
On my face
In my skirt

People pass by like the river beyond
The water breaks without pause on an island upstream

I am an island in a river of people.
Some glance, but none pause in their relentless move forward.
A dog sniffs at my shoe.
He is pulled away.
The owner apologizes,
        desperate not to intrude,
        to have no effect on my life.

But the dog knows
We are all moved along by the same current.