procrastination

When my head is full of poems,
little graspings at unknowns,
and worries rise like waves
to toss about my ship of faith,
it is so easy to talk
about standing on the rock,
and so easy to write
about fighting the good fight.

It is harder to put down the pen
of my numb procrastination,
that desperately yearns and aches
to put the unknowns in their place,
while the knowns, the things I need to do,
are piling up and overdue.
I think of God and think of you
and write until my hand turns blue.