I’ve Never Seen A Moose in the Wild
The other day I posted a poem called “... hold on.”
After I posted it I received a message from a follower.
They told me they were suicidal, but the words of that poem kept them around.
After reading their message I jotted a few words down.
This poem is called, “I’ve Never Seen A Moose in the Wild.”
You can find it in my book, Walk A Little Slower.
There are days when the thought of leaving slips into my mind.
It’s a thought that is dark and far from kind.
And most of the time I wonder how it worked its way to a place
that leaves me feeling burdened, blind, and behind.
But I’m fine.
At least that’s what I tell myself from time to time.
But I can’t leave.
I can’t leave because I have yet to see the sun set over and through the redwood trees.
And I can’t leave because I have yet to find rest in the mess
and I still have a little something more to give than my best.
And I can’t leave because next Saturday I made plans and I don’t want to be late.
And I can’t leave because I love the way she cooks
and part of me wonders at age 74 how I will look.
And as silly as it sounds, I’ve never seen a moose in the wild.
And I want to see a moose in the wild.
And I can’t leave because for as hard as living can be
I can’t help but believe there is beauty beginning to bloom out of the brokenness.
I believe there is.
And I am going to see it.