Pandemic Poem #38

In that space of knowing

Something needs to be done

But not knowing

What it is

What to do

Where to go

How to say it

What to feel

I lace my sneakers 

And press the soles into soil softened 

By an overnight rainstorm

In that space of knowing 

I should be writing 

But not knowing

What to write

Which memory wants examined

Which story needs told

How the words are shaped

How I want to feel

I fill my fountain pen

And touch the nib to the familiar blue line

In a college-lined notebook 

Where one step becomes two

One letter become a word

That leads to a third


In that space of not knowing