Trembling at the Stil Point (A Poem)

Trembling at the Still Point
(title adapted from TS Eliot)

As hard as I throw, it always returns,
boomerangs back to me with deadly grace,
its power conserved, accelerated, transmitted
from potential energy to actual. And here I am,
standing on this same patch of barren ground,
arm outstretched to land it again. All the years
I studied; history, physics, physiology, poetry
and I never learned to stand aside.

Behold the modern Sisyphus, cursed
by the gods of by your own bootstraps,
of deal with it, of round pills in rounder
bottles, all the while smiling sweetly.

Everything's fine, thank you very much. 

Praying no one notices the way she fixes
her gaze on the approaching dot in the distance,
getting larger and larger until it blots
out the indifferent sun, watching her punishment

return to her, her legs braced, right
arm effortlessly lifting for the catch.

---LJ Cohen, December 2013