13. Clear Lines (Myshkin, 2020) · couplets

I took a trip within my trip, and now I seek, and see, clear lines (not straight) to Thou. Not overpowered, magical yet plain, Much easier to feel than to explain. Not full and quick, this guidance to what’s right: I had a palate-cleanser day last night. I didn’t talk to anyone past six, Just churned and brooded, phantom woes to fix. Today, goodbye to Ski Bowl and new friends. To Gumboot Lake, to tie up my loose ends! God’s line by line decrees are crystal clear. Gift Book! Call Mom! Write More! Talk Less! Come Here! And write that daily poem, come what may! I still can’t grok what happened yesterday. My heart was feral, scared of dark and light, My morning pages took heroic plight, That blank page stared at me. I sat and sat… I groped for truths, found one, and that was that. I thought my poem angsty, stupid, weak… But real. Too tired to try. Too sick to seek. Life, poetry, love, work and when to teach— Each asks—I set clear fishing lines for each. If nothing bites, let lethargy set in… Force nothing. Push down thrice. When clear, begin. To follow life I promised months ago, But vagueness lost self-trust. Which way to go? The missing puzzle piece is here to stay. Five Godly fingers hold me, point the way.