The Waiting Dilemma
I toy with the idea
of leaving poetry behind—
writing, say, memoir—
then talk myself out of it
as I speak with a priest,
who leads me
to my own best self. I pray
before the Blessed Sacrament,
covet only the grace to surrender.
Surrender is the only route to joy,
which should be obvious to anyone
when her soul is not tarnished with sin,
yet still I ask myself
in an unwanted storm of envy,
“If you don’t fight for
your own dreams, whose dreams
will you hold to?”
A rainbow of tenderness
provides for purer intention.
You forgive, out of mercy.
Uphold me with Your grace.
Father, make Your dreams mine.