The Journey Back

The Journey Back

With pen upon the page
I write words others see
and oftentimes I wonder
just what words mean to me

I cannot control the pen
though I see not the pages
until the finished words
gives birth to the images

Deep within my secret soul
something lies coiled to spew
and the words come unbidden
from things I never knew

I write, not knowing what
are the words I do not see
and look with wondering eyes
upon what came from me

From whence comes these scenes
that steals my soul as I write
and I struggle to understand,
hoping that someday I might

For over three and one half years, I gave up the words.
I let anger and frustration at blind biases against rhyme
turn me from the words I love. For three and one half years
there was something inside me that was dead. Do not let
the music of your soul die. It is a terrible emptiness that
eats at your mind and guts. Twisting them, plucking at your
heart and dimming the brightness of the world. Whether you
are a professional or just someone like me, don't kill the dream
inside. It is worse than death, worse than life, it is only emptiness.

This poem is not particularly good, but it was the first I wrote
after my long sojourn into the valley of emptiness.