I’m all in.

I tend to wander ’round at night,

up the hill and to the right.

I long to see one planet bright

and oh, the moon, the sweet moonlight!

Yet when I gaze into the sky

the questions come, like “Dear God, why?”

Or maybe “When? Before I die?”

Or “Is it all a horrid lie?”

“Is it that I am not so ready,

not quite able, too unsteady?”

“Do I hurt with words too heady?”

“Am I caught up in the eddy

thinking I am in the flow

when truth be told I hardly know

how your love lives and how to show

that it’s both high and far below?”

I’m begging you dear Lord, “Reveal

your will for me, what cards to deal!

You know my passion and my zeal.

Perhaps I simply need to heal

and grow into a man.

Again?

Or show more strength or have a plan?

Learn to knit a silly afghan,

eat more tuna from a can?

Seriously, I’m grasping here

for guidance (with no trace of fear).

So frequently l shed a tear

and wish to hold to what’s most dear . . .

But that’s just it now, isn’t it?

I need to move toward you a bit.

And I will do that: take the hit.

Whatever you say. Make me fit!

I’ll go with you, all the way

in wand’ring nights and every day.

I guess that’s all I have to say.

I’m all in and come what may . . .”


Photograph “The View from My Garden” © 2018 Timothy Waugh