That’s Not Your Job
As I sit beside a river
try to write my name on water
A face on its surface appears
and smiles at my folly
My finger writes my name on sand
A gust of wind blows hard
All traces disappear in a flash
and sand rests on sand
I scratch my name on tree’s bark
with a piece of rough rock
It fails to do the trick
the trick does not oblige my wish
I inscribe my name on a rock
with a knife that looks sharp
The knife turns blunt and fails to work
Slips down my trembling hands
My hands shake as I write
my name on blades of grass
All flowers look amazed
at madness of its worst kind
I aim my finger at the sky
as if I moved a pen
There is a murmur in the clouds
a voice is heard, “That’s not your job”
Photo by Peter Jensen
