Not Everything's a Sign
by Audrey Elledge
Not everything’s a sign. There, I said it—
not everything’s a sign.
I want to shout this to the friend looking for clues
in clouds, the one wondering if the song
at the bar is a sign from above
that the guy likes her back.
That wild dream is not a prophecy, I could declare.
It only means you ate too close to bedtime.
But of course, I cannot say this—
we all have to learn, for ourselves,
that providence is not a private message,
that truth is not a series of codes we must decipher.
I once plucked a penny off the ground
and believed it meant something.
I took the date next to Abe’s copper head
as a cosmic promise and circled it in my calendar.
I’m still waiting to find out what will happen on
February 5th.
We are all trying to hear the voice
instructing us which way to turn.
There’s a poet who says the voice we should listen to is
small and fond and local,
and I would add it’s also
warm and firm and obvious.
Quiet and matter-of-fact.
It has not shattered your life into
puzzle pieces you must hunt
and glue back together.
Instead, it says eat a snack
and take a nap
and it’s okay to still hope
and don’t text him.
The voice says you are not abandoned,
even in all this decay.
So stop looking for words in the cappuccino foam,
stop staring at the ceiling waiting for God’s hand to come through the roof
when it’s already right there holding you.
I preach this to myself.
If you need a sign, think of how you cannot step outside without meeting light.
Think of how the sun is the sun,
the stars are just stars,
the world blooms in spite of everything,
and your life is not an equation to solve.