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*** Awaiting Inspiration ***
(written for my brother and sister poets)

Reaching for dreams in the black of my closed eyes, but sleepless,
I go on in music, out past radiant lights — 
Bright and brighter — spreading beams that hold back off every
Fright plotted by the cornered, infernal shadows threatening
To overwhelm as they amass over meadows bordering
The forested wilds’ protection of those — hidden therein.

Those, who, in their God-graced innocence, their divinely destined lives,
From infant cries to elder wise; and who will survive
Keeping  in the depth of their beings a spirit of truth with
A visible valiance — seen upon a look deep into their eyes;
While —- in this place — in this secrecy thick with trees — I alone 
Am ready with pen in hand...to be their mirror…

For I am a documentarian of the hopes held 
In humanity’s array of feeling hearts: 
Whose stories I note
In the bounce of continuous city din; in tales recounted by farm folk
Walking between their grain-growing rows; and told in chanted
Prayers rising for the ill, the poor, the despairing…needed and answered.

Thus, holding visions and voices, I persistently proceed with my work,
 First, with a necessary pulling at these pliant walls 
Of the creative cocoon — its soft, loose weave deceptively
Can seem easily penetrable.  Possibly God will respond to these
Cries for his collaboration.  Meanwhile, alone, awaiting inspiration, I stay 
With crayons  in hand, watching the approach of a very rare snowfall in May.


*****.     ******.      ******.     *******.      ******.      *****
Inspired by Milton & Dante, may be Part i of a longer work.
Thanks be to God…
Also for Charlie and Jim with thanks.
11/21-28 (c)S. Young Eslinger

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