Poem: Who Knows

A short poem: Who Knows, on uncertainty, the sea, and the particular freedom that comes from letting the question remain open. Written from a moment of stillness beside the water in Loreto.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email
Reading Time: < 1 minute

“I am still here, even when my body expects me to disappear.”

I did not
mean to exist
so loudly.

You did
Say I made it up,
the way the floor creaked,
The glass shattered,
The night bent sideways.

Title: Fractured Evidence

Photograph from “Poem: Who Knows”, image 1.

Photo: Amy Tucker, © 2026

Note. Sea glass gathered from low tide: fragments shaped by impact, time, and dispute.

Who knows
what happened
when the truth
Became optional?

I remembered.
You rewrote.
The story shifted,
word by word,
until even silence
sounded suspicious.

Who knows
which silence
screamed first?

Title: The Shadow Wears My Shoes (I am still here)

Photograph from “Poem: Who Knows”, image 2.

Photo: Amy Tucker, © 2026

Notation: I included this image to remind myself that I am still here, even when my nervous system expects otherwise.

Translation Note: Where Spanish appears in this collection, it was assisted by Google Translate (translate.google.com). The Spanish is woven in as an act of reclamation, a return to a language of the body and the self that exists beyond institutional English.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Author: Amy Tucker

Amy Tucker is a graduate of the Master of Human Rights and Social Justice program at Thompson Rivers University on Secwépemc territory. Her work develops alonetude—intentional, positive aloneness—as a counter-frame to loneliness, across personal, somatic, and structural registers. 30 Days by the Sea is her digital thesis.