Riding the line between abundance and chaos,
My stupid focus is on lack, lack, lack.
I try gratitude, but follow the switchback
Back toward loud whiny-assedness–
Too much. Too much! There really ought to be less
Except of course when there needs to be much more.
A good friend named my mountain bike “Pathfinder”–
However much I blazed my way off trail,
I only once rode my bike off the dock into the lake,
and only once or twice required stitches,
Got poison ivy only in the tiniest patches–
I somehow always got somewhere close to on track.
Somehow always somewhere close, like now.
My amen’s so hard, so real, it feels profound.
Wednesday the 13th should have been Day/Line 12, and then one post a day with today as the last. The week before finals proved ungainly, however, and I found myself–as we all did–profoundly disturbed and dislocated by the shooting on Friday–so far beyond my normal distraction….
In turn, I will try to process and then write about the heartbreak, the grief, the fury, the impotent rage, the pragmatic actions that this particular shooting moves me to. Today, as a finish to this poem particularly, I can only attest that at the moment my focus in not at all on what I lack.