Posted by Allan in Verse -- Fear on April 10, 2011 12:40 pm
To write is to offer sacrifice to the gods
who stand over my shoulder disappointed,
who sit among a crowd of ghosts
awaiting wisdom wrapped in language
ready to bestow judgment, offer encouragement
but most of all, to consume
and be consumed in the ceremonial fire.
To write is to befriend the ghosts
of Jack and Eddie arguing about
form and structure over
more drinks than either should have had.
It is to seek approval from the essence
of writers past and present
who managed to meander their way
into the audience in my mind.
To write is to simultaneously
embrace and transcend my flaws,
to wish my inner poet had a deeper voice
with which to deliver thoughts
from mind to the imaginary air,
to wish that I could speak
as if my words were a sword
with purpose and conviction.
To write is to be absolutely alone,
left frighteningly isolated
to fend off the demons of doubt and fear
in an imaginary world
where the gods themselves are of my design
and the sacrifices they demand
are in turn offered in my name.