To Me This Matters

I feel more than a little out of place As if my trusty pen does deface The paper, that lies stubborn, blank, My words hang heavy and outrank My thoughts, which battle to clear But struggle in a fog of fear. I try hard to shake the demons out, I will not sink to harbour doubt Or turn to lay claim to fragility, Fractured phrases mar ability And jumbled lie and make no sense, Cause rifts to form in competence. I want to leave an inscribed trail, To succeed where odds are set to fail, To make a difference to the world And use my pen with fingers curled To hold the precious gift and savour Writing truth without fear or favour. I hope my words will fill a need, Defend all of our freedoms, that lead To providing power, to build, renew And abandon weak words; join the few Who have learned to wield a mighty pen That defeats the brutal acts of men. Evil might not be specifically based Its head emerges when something’s erased That leads to censoring our creations It’s not linked just to religion or Nations. At first subversive it rises and shatters All I hold dear - and to me this matters.