Thursday, September 2, 2021

Rest & Work -- A Poem (sort of)

 . . . free writing is a messy freedom. Here we go . . .

I said again that I would wait to create until
after a little rest
A little closing of the eyes and folding of the hands
because I am always sure that
once my mind has been refreshed and my eyes
open wider to truth, unincumbered
then I could get to the work
But suddenly the day’s currency is spent
like each day before
and this soul slips haphazardly into easy Spectacle and flighty Flavor -
Distraction and Disillusionment then come to pay ready penance
A reminder that, frankly, the work seems too hard on a tired, old soul
And refreshment too, too far away
I hardly notice that the hours in waterfall rush me toward forever’s sea
But I do wonder if perhaps feeling fresh is more
about going to The Well than mustering
More opening up and less closing the deal
So before my mind has remembered
the villainous cast of naysayers swimming frantically inside
“Quick, now, before they steal control!
Move, child!”
Yes, I’ll Insist that Weariness take a seat there next to Anxiety and
I’ll busy Self-Absorption on some fool’s errand
and leave them and the others behind and close the door hard
Then go to another mental room taking only Wonder with me
I’ll be sure to check under the desk
where Apprehension is prone to lie in wait, salivating
He's there - shun him
If Doubt shows his face, I won’t send him away, but I’ll use him up
Let him watch what happens next
Because Wonder is holy and patient and will stay and will deliver
See, I have rested too long
And the work won’t wait
Eternity won’t wait
My mind is only aging and my bones growing gray
More so and more so every blessed day
So this little life, I’ll use it up
On beauty and truth and God’s calling
Rest comes later and forever

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