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The Voices on the Page
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On Poetry Sometimes the words
will themselves into being,
appearing on the sheet
by their own volition.
I am merely their mediator,
establishing peace
between ink and paper.
My only purpose is
to assist in their melding,
welding them together with
inept hands but a capable heart.
I don’t breathe into them;
No, they breathe into me
drawing in their own inspiration.
Their faint whispers are heard
the instant they begin speaking,
leaking meaning from crevices
that were once watertight.
And understanding is discerned
where none was intended:
backlit for only my eyes.
Rewrite 2012
Sometimes the words
will themselves into being,
appearing on the sheet
by their own volition.
I am merely their mediator,
establishing peace
between ink and paper.
My only purpose is
to assist in their melding,
welding them together with
inept hands but a capable heart.
I don’t breathe into them;
no, they breathe into me
drawing in their own inspiration.
Their faint whispers are heard
the instant they begin speaking,
leaking meaning from crevices
that were once watertight.
And understanding is discerned
where none was intended:
backlit for only my eyes.
