A poem for poets

A poem for poets

I think you know already that what you have to say
needs to be said, and can only be said by you.
And that all you’ve been through, all your trials
are merely cannon fodder for bringing emotion to your art.

I imagine you’ve been told that the only thing standing
between you and the great poets, is the bravery to share your work,
the speed in which you write, the interest of your readers
to waste hard earned cash on poetry books,
and the hubris to know you are that good.
See, there’s not so much standing in your way, really.
Just effort, and a little bit of self-confidence.

I hope you’ve been told that poets can’t always save themselves.
Poetry is good but it’s not a drug that can cure everything that ails you.
It cannot fill a cup with a gaping hole, cannot staunch a bleeding wound.
Don’t neglect to seek healing for your soul’s shelter
while your soul is healing everyone else.

I pray you find balance between the realities of life,
and your passion for writing. Sometimes, you have to rest the pen
to get some rest. Sometimes you have to be willing
to put in some hours at your day job to put food on the table.
But when you clean up the kitchen, find your way back to pen and paper.
You have too much to say to let your dreams drown in a puddle of gravy.

Since I figure you’ve been told all these wonderful tips already,
I’ll just leave you with this one shred of advice, this meager nugget of wisdom.

Get to know that old crone, the ragged mongrel, the wayward child,
who lives inside your skin. Invite them in. Offer them some hot cocoa,
don’t forget the marshmallows to sweeten the deal. Quiz them a little.
Find out what makes them tick. Then, when you think you know them pretty well,
ask if they’d be willing to trust you with all their sacred tales and darkest secrets.
If not, be persistent. Wear them down. Beg if you must. But if they are willing,
schedule some appointments. Confirm with each the date and time.

Then show up with your pen and write.