The lady with the blog from Indiana who home-schooled her kids is unsure of the old faith but won't take the risk of changing; I certainly don't think she should.
The conversation with Renie about when she decided not to be a nun any more. The moment she discovered she could think for herself!
The relative who blames her mother for her fate but absolutely refuses to look at herself. The poor girl can't find the courage and it's heartbreaking.
The pain of not having answers, losing more and more friends, ennui, loneliness, betrayal, abandonment, "existential angst," the uncertainty of nothing being fixed, set, permanent, immortal.
In the middle ages they had all the answers, the orthodox believers always knew and couldn't be bothered: yet the sun didn't revolve around the earth no matter what they believed. Drop the bomb on them before they drop the bomb on you they say.
Would you rather have it any other way? Living in questions rather than false answers. Call it "throwing open your mind."
The poem was written like that while I was lying in bed, but now it's done, except for the erection, I'm afraid to tell you about that.