Doubt

by Steve Luttrell

It was always
about beginnings.
The first push
to what seemed
most insistent.
The impulse then
to act, to bring off
some occasion
of my own doing.

Because I was alone,
quite alone,
my thoughts became
the company I kept.
But something intervenes,
moves between the thoughts,
a questioning uneasy
in its movement.

And he is strong
who would
take unto himself
such doubt.
I am not that man
and if this is that or
that it matters in
some crazy way
it’s not for me to say.
I won’t, I can’t,
I am not that man.