Hanging onto my hat I leap towards
my life’s next appointment not knowing
quite where or with whom figuring
I will recognize it when I get there
I will hear my name called
feel the rightness of the moment
and breathless with anticipation
jump to my feet holding out my
hopes and dreams like a sheaf
of papers in a folder.
Here, I will say. Take these.
I have another copy.
A person (an I) may do
as it pleases and what its heart
desires beautifully
with courage and aplomb.
Clearly these
things are possible
achingly so
but what of
the lone goose
the hat on the hook
the I whose yearnings
lie sleeping
contrarily
hidden away?
Stuck
Glued
Immobilized
Paralyzed
Imprisoned
Stuck
Yearning for change
Oh so
Filled with fear and trepidation
Change anyway.
Try anyway.
Go. Grab a hat. Pack a bag.
Try.
Toss the hat to the moon.
Go.
Do.