I try to make sense of things:
Answer the questions. Solve the problems. Work the puzzle. Find the reason behind the rhyme.
I am uncomfortable with anything less or incomplete.
I don’t like loose ends and frayed edges.
But I am all loose ends and frayed edges.
Questions and problems abound.
I am sin-sick and don’t want to admit it, broken, but I patch myself back together with some independence and hard work and I’ll-figure-it-out kind of thinking.
What is this refusal to lie fallow?
I’m hard packed and in need of harrowing,
If I am to bear fruit, I require loosening and then a letting alone.
You tell me: be still, sink down, let yourself collapse.
I’ll catch you and lay you out to be at rest awhile.
You say it loud and clear:
Yield to yield.