Handhold
For the record,
Throwin' in the towel takes some effort. . .*
He’s right, of course, this musician.
Drafting cover letters. Googling agents.
Wondering how I’d balance a transition of current commitments.
Or, not scheduling new ones, when a hiring process looks promising. . .
It’s effort, a lot of it.
So I'd rather ride it out for better weather. . .
Except, I wouldn’t. That’s just the reality.
Each time I consider what not trying means
Could mean
It can’t mean
Because it would mean,
That’s it.
Weather, even better, is still part of the same pattern,
The wrinkles and age spots,
My reflection in the mirror,
This ride, and the damage, are done.
Damn, I'm exhausted
What the hell's this all for?
My friend sent me a link.
I’m skeptical of links.
The negative impact of one simple click.
She used to send me links for new jobs.
“What is this?”
“Freakonomics. A podcast. On Failure.”
“What am I supposed to get out of it? Why did it make you think of me?”
“Write a CV of failure. It could show that you’re trying.
Failure isn’t bad, even if it doesn’t feel good.”
I don’t need to type a document. Cover letters. Query letters.
My lists are long and easily accessible.
One click.
Is this where it mends or it breaks?
My mentor said, “You should take a break. This is a lot of stress for you.”
Except, I wake up every day ready to undo it.
I squint and clip and tug out gray hairs. Each one gone is a do over.
Even if I go bald in the process.
“Quit or grit.”
The wins are few, but they exist. The almosts and the maybes keep you in the game. That’s how gamblers lose everything. And, it’s how gamblers win everything.
My brother always said, “It’s a numbers game.”
My dad said, "I knew I could always hold on."
I believe too much in grit to choose anything else,
but to hold on to trust my grip.
I look up,
And there’s an opening, cracked . . .
I steady myself again on an
uneven but available step,
Between a rock and a hard place.
*Rock and a Hard Place-Song and Lyrics by Bailey Zimmerman
