Blessing the Doubts
Bless this one, creeping into my pocket
like a bad penny, shiny copper talisman.
And this one, flooding me like a spring monsoon,
washing away all reason and linear thought.
One of my favorite doubts whispers of demons;
teaches me how to curse in a new language.
Then there’s the subtle one, tucking itself into my shoe;
constant and true, like a splinter.
And don’t forget the faithful doubt that refuses to desert me
(like a family ghost or demented mascot).
Pay special attention to the ragged runaway doubts;
I harbor them out of kindness.
Remember the one who pants like a seasoned hound,
reminds me to keep up, keep my head down, scent my prey.
Finally, please, bless that seductive doubt whose song
leads me to the ledge, pushes me off into impossible.
- Deborah A. Miranda