Be Done

I have never learned to knit,
so trying to get the stitches
of my will and Thy will

all lined up in neat rows
to form my life jacket
has been my greatest blundering

making it apparent for anyone
who looks at me to see I have no
opening to let out the fullness

of my second arm, so I just look idle
and I can’t fit my head through
the neck hole, so I can’t see

where I am going with any certainty,
causing me to bump into people
who may be trying to help me

but there seems to be something
in the yarn that is letting me believe
I may be able to push through

and with one eye almost out I think
I see someone strong and enthusiastic
turning a big gear that is making

the earth move beneath my feet.

Susan Shea was raised in New York City, and lives in a forest in Pennsylvania. In recent years, she made the full-time transition from school psychologist to poet. More than one hundred of her poems have been published by places such as Invisible City, Ekstasis, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Amethyst Review, The Gentian, Across the Margin, October Hill Magazine, Lit Break Magazine, New English Review, Foreshadow, and others.