Better to Trust Oneself

Have you ever seen a tumbleweed in real life?

Haven’t you also had that moment 
when you thought
oh, no. 
what I am or 
what I do
truly
does not matter?

it happens to me.
now and then I start
collecting ideas of 
who I am
thinking external validation is
relevant. and, well,
have you ever seen a 
tumbleweed in real life?
I have. I have.
It blew right across the road
in front of my car,
at which point
my Dad hollered
look out, don't hit it
those things are nasty!
The dad who also told me
it was better to flatten a squirrel
(or hit a cat or a dog)
than swerve and maybe
break the car slash myself--

tumbleweeds don't have guts:
they are wily, dried hanks
freed from their foundations,
pulled and pushed around 
going wherever they freakin please
until you think 
(when one crosses your path):
oh dang!
this is no fluffy weed!
this torrent deserves a name.
Clara or Jared or 
Tina Tumblin' Turner--
some such. 

eventually it stops
stuck up on a fence 
or a Saguaro, the like--
drops its packet where it lies.
nature's got no time  
for my nonsense:
contortions of truth 
worries on why when 
there's wind to blow
clouds to squeeze
seeds to move.
better to trust oneself,
whatever the shapes or turns.
collect fallen cactus ribs and
make something of it --
while there's still time.

---

It’s April, which is National Poetry Month.

I hope you enjoy reading as much poetry as you can stuff yourself with this month!

Please follow the link in the poem to my friend, writer Kate Mapother’s site “Life at the Bottom of the Canyon” where she describes building a door from fallen Saguaro cacti.