The Poem
Find a place where you can
be alone, turn down the volume.
Wait. Go through the rituals,
perhaps recall a phrase
that has been playing
on the mind, shadows cast
by a mood, the taste of lips
still sweet from long ago,
the leftovers from a hurt.
Listen quietly. Don't move.
Soon it will begin to speak.
Give it room to wander
the page, to take whatever it needs
from your memory, your heart.
Feel it rub a nerve and rummage
the dictionary of the head.
Let some inner drum gently
beat a rhythm to time the music
of the words. Treat whoever
it is as an honored guest.
Give of yourself.
When it goes, it will leave
you a precious gift. Pick it up,
feel its heartbeat, read
what it has to say.
Hold it close for awhile
with all of its imperfections
and faults as if it's a child
of your soul. Give it a name.
Then, you will have to let it go.
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