Poetry 142: The Calling

The Calling

 

What is it you want
from me?

I quite honestly

don’t know.

 

For every left I take,
it turns out it should
have been
a right.

 

I feel like I waste

my time
pursuing the
unpursuable;
yet somehow not
realizing it until
I’m knee deep
in shit.

 

The shit of regret.
The shit of resentment,
Disappointment.
Confusion.

 

I don’t know
what I’ve been
called here to do...
I don’t know
how to proceed...

 

I long for your
guidance.
Your consult.
And most especially,
your reassurance.

 

I do try to hear
your voice-
amidst the cacophony
and misfirings
of my own unbalanced
neurotransmitters.
 

Things are as

they should be.

All is well.

 

Do not be afraid.

 

And yet,
I still don’t trust
your will.
I still can’t trust
your will.

 

It’s not that
I live in the dark.

 

(I wish...)

No, I’m profoundly

aware that my way
is not working;
that my way is
the driving force of
my own suffering
and that of others
too.

 

But what on this

green earth,

in this one precious life,
will it take
for me to
surrender to your
loving presence?

 

To dwell in your
house and let you
dwell in mine?

 

If only I knew...

 

Perhaps it can

only be grace.

Again.

 

-Me