A Blind Turtle Leads My Skiff


This poem was originally published in the March 2023 issue of Wild Roof Journal
My turtle friend says, Don't ever pray for specific outcomes.
		When the skiff's mast nearly topples under flames,
Don't pray for rain, only for the strength to give it up . . . give it up.

Once captain of a big brass boat, I washed ashore on a big bad rock
		and heard, When we ask for things, we lead ourselves astray.
My turtle friend says, Don't ever pray for specific outcomes.

Clung to bottle, snuff, pearls . . . and any siren if I found one
		that clutched back as hard as I should've fought away.
Don't pray for love, it only comes when you give it up, when you give it up. 

The serenity to accept thirst . . . 
	The strength to look from the sea's cruelties 
		to your own . . . 
			The wisdom to pray
				so you can swallow drowning as it comes . . . 
					And never for an outcome.

When you steered the boat, look where you've gone: toward sharks 
		and krakens, away from loved ones waiting at the bay 
for your return; all for rusting treasure—you just couldn't give it up.

But if this skiff can ramp over every wave, withstand each typhoon, and dodge
		each dark mouth, will I be forgiven? Or will I be cast away?
My turtle friend says, Don't ever pray for specific outcomes.
	For fate . . . To inner god, for inner calm . . . As for the rest, give it up.
		Give it up . . .

The original publication at Wild Roof Journal.
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