Cold Water

Written by: Jack Jordan

It feels like 
cold water was just poured on me.
Okay, I’m awake now; 
you’ve got my attention. 
Are you telling me
to simplify my life 
rather than take on complications?
So, remind me:
what am I reworking, and why?
“Your life, what’s left of it, 
because your feet are glued to the ground.” 
    And how?
“Bury your locomotives and muscle cars; 
you no longer need brute power, 
clear away the thorns and sticky bits 
plugging access to your soul, 
sweep away dirt and ashes 
left from other faces, 
leave those boxes of doubt and guilt 
in a grimy alley where they belong, 
hide the clock.”
     And then?
“It may be trite, 
but give what you’ve made to those who will care, 
paint landscapes that twitter and green,
watch the moonrise then sunset and moonrise again,
learn the language of your lover, 
say goodbye when the time comes, 
help yourself lean deeply into whatever lies ahead.”