(a poem for big life decisions and the need for wisdom)
A coffee date with Solomon would suffice.
I’ve got nothing that would add to his fame, really,
no battles over children that I don’t have.
Just a chat over mocha,
you know, get some things off my chest.
You told me to go ahead and ask for insight,
so I guess he and I aren’t all that different, really-
both of us young seekers,
promising to sacrifice wealth for the wisdom we need-
he, to rule a people,
while my own request seems a little silly;
I just want to know which exit to take off of I-70
when I drive east this fall.
You are full of surprises.
I think he’d probably chuckle at me, old Solomon,
tell me to chill out,
and that You weren’t joking about giving generously
to those who ask.
To which I’d reply,
“Easy for you to say.”
But thanks for the talk, Sol,
and good luck with that “many wives” hang up.
I’ve done my best not to let my hope get waterlogged,
you know, “like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the….”
the instability of doubt, that’s it.
I’ve tried to fight that off.
And I think I feel it coming, that promise of Yours,
even without the coffee
[though I hate to miss out on a good latte].
Not so much a roadmap, or the exit sign I should look for,
but a garland of grace.
You know, like beauty for ashes-
than good old-fashioned advice.