Hocus Pocus
Hocus Pocus
Poets are like magicians.
They trick the heart into feeling,
“things” they had no idea, were there at all.
Sadly poets don’t always know how their tricks work.
They sit and think, and study, and hope and even pray.
They are prone to mistakes and misinterpretations.
Yet…
Poets, dare to dream in colors,
of blue, and yellow, and green.
They sing songs to no one,
people that can barely hear at all.
They make jokes that people miss,
sometimes on purpose.
“May I read you this?” a courageous voice in the crowd.
Met with scoffs and “Oh my’s” or worse.
“How long will it be, why did you bother?”
“Will it make me laugh or smile?”
“Perhaps I do not want to feel that way!”
Then…
they leave their words,
lying on the ground.
Un...cared for.
A blessing,
they are found…
treasures all around.
words on a page, a tiny perfect stage.
When we are alone,
not being what others say we are…
we are closer to ourselves and not far from Him.
Some of us, not all of us, but a few…
look at the words and dare to consider,
to ponder how it feels to fly, from a wheelchair,
to sing without a voice,
to laugh at yourself,
and even…
dare to love.
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