I did not know, at first,
that I had this courage.
I was battered, and weak, and ailing.
I did not believe that I could do
what needed doing,
much less find the courage to attempt.
I knew
that I needed to, regardless,
for there was no body else.
I began to ask:
friends, family, anyone, God,
to show me the way.
"Just tell me what I need to do,
and I’ll do it."
"Give me the manual,
and I’ll read it."
I knew
I was looking in the wrong places for answers;
that only I could chart the course to lead my own ship
out of these troubled waters.
But I couldn’t do it.
I was too poor a capitain,
the waters,
too treacherous,
and my ship was frail,
taking on water,
headed for deeper sea.

It was not long before my ship sank,
and my predicament became not just
finding out how to capitain a ship,
but a submarine, as well.
As you can imagine,
I had to become a pretty good swimmer
in short order.

All of this was new to me.
I didn’t have the skills to put my life together.
I didn’t even know what skills I would need,
where they were learned.
I kenw that if my life were together,
I wouldn’t worry about food or shelter.
These two were at the forefront of my worries for so long
that I had forgotten my concern for failure.
I was already failing!
How much worse could I do?
I kept asking question,
and I started trying out the answers I got back.
I heeded the words of a mystic who drew my cards.
I applied for a job in healthcare
at the suggestion of a stranger.
I started going to church,
just to see who I would meet.
Maybe I would meet God!
I almost did,
and this would’ve all been over.
I thought that if I did,
I would ask him,
What was it that must be done?
Tell me, and I’d do it.

I haven’t yet gotte an answer back.
I think, at this point,
that I should not hope to ever get one,
but I have not stopped asking.

My ship continued to sink.
My shelter became more insecure.
My food became more scarce.
I aquired expenses I couldn’t anticipate or afford,
and I developed ailments that threatened to undermine
the little I’d been able to lash together as a life raft
just to keep my head above water.

It got worse.
The remains of the necrosis
which I had been forcing to animate
known as my health
finally fell to pieces,
and I lost my composure,
my control,
and I was ready to offer my life as well
in a 3-for-1 package deal,
but fate would not accept it that night.

In my final act of desperation,
I begged, pleaded with anyone,
everyone I met.
I had already lost everything.
I did not care if I had anything,
reputation, respect, employment, sanity,
life left to lose.
It was forfeit.
I would have burned the *SUN*
if I could just get an answer:
that what must be done could be,
that I could save my love.
It had to get so bad
that the consequences of not trying
frightened me more
than the consequences of trying and failing,
but I did finally find the courage to do
what must be done,
at rock bottom,
in a hospital gown,
and with nothing to call his own,
but the desire to do
what must be done.