Micro-Losses - P Gregory Guss

[Larry Robinson]

Micro-Losses 
 
As I struggle to find
the old and familiar grace
of strength to arise erect
from the kneeling prayer position
on the hard bitten-ground
 
– there comes singing from the Yew trees
 
  As I strain to hear my grand-daughters
infectious giggles, I smile pretending
I heard her two year old words
 
– there is a quietude on the wind
 
As my overwhelm within magnifies again
the smallest of tasks
I stop and ponder the efficacy
of proceeding down a path
as though the puppy a head
is now a feral hound frothing
like the ghost of a Minotaur
 
– there is a chorus of Threshold singers on the coastal horizon 
 
So what am I to do with these micro-losses 
visiting me with a stench of decay of their own?
 
I reach for my forgotten guitar -
 
I walk slowly through the Eucalyptus grove looking upwards 
so my tears are held within
until I’m ready for them to fall away
 
I write an old friend with pen and paper
 
I call my adult son and apologize for my 
years of seeing him as my wounded father 
 
I take myself out to fish for salmon
a prostrated cry to the gods 
a surrender 
 
 
	- P Gregory Guss
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