Estuary

After a lifetime of rejecting predetermination,

I call upon it now.

I get quiet.

Okay, I’m ready.

Tell me what to do.

Point me in the right direction.

Give me a sign,

but one that is unmistakable,

because you know me,

you know I think everything is a sign.

Okay, I am quiet.

I am trying to not cling,

to not attach,

to a particular outcome.

How does it work?

Is it just that I think I’m making choices,

like the flowing river thinks it’s really doing things,

really going places on its own,

but the whole time the course was charted,

the sea destination beckoning all the while?

Show me how to flow along as gracefully as the water.

Guide me.

Carry me to the ocean.