Notes About The Poem

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SONNET FOR THE UNBOWED PEN
I do not place my words before your praise,
nor wait for your clapping hands to grant them worth.
A deeper pulse compels the lines I raise~
a meaning rising darkling into birth.
I write to breathe, to name what trembles near,
to steady what has wavered in the cage,
to free the truths that lingered bound by fear
and give them voice upon an open page.
Denied acclaim is neither wound nor guide;
your daggered slights effect not my moving hand.
Expression is the compass at my side~
the soul’s own weather shaped so it may stand.
So pen your veiled, daggered slights if you must.
My work seeks life beyond my desk, unbowed and just.
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