Saturday, August 4, 2012

From what he chose

A small line of sweat
washing his upper lip,
he lay on a single bed
in a room with pale green walls,
searching through the catalog
for some sign of a future,
as if a course listing could
suddenly leap from the page
and encircle his imagination
or at least suggest what
to register for in the fall but
nothing suggested itself, and
the choice remained what
it had been all along, really:
theology or words, ministry or
writing, God business or news
business, both a priesthood,
both jostling each other
for his soul. From what
he chose he made a life.

This poem is submitted for today’s history (personal or otherwise) prompt at dVerse Poets. To see more poems submitted for the prompt, please visit dVerse Poets.

This is also a poem in the series of poems about growing up in the South, suggested by my friend Nancy Rosback.

Photograph: “Which Way?” by Mike Coates via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.


Brian Miller said...

so this is your own history...neat man...and a hard decision but then again you can blend them both...and the important thing is you made a life...

Anonymous said...

You chose the right course, as a matter of course.

marousia said...

You made a life, that's for sure. I really enjoyed the details in this

lucychili said...

choosing and living.

Anonymous said...

A nice reflection, Glynn. Funny how things turn out, isn't it?

Claudia said...

it's not easy to make these decisions...and then live with it.. my younger daughter is in that process right now...hope she will choose wisely

Maude Lynn said...

I remember doing this! Great write.