Forgive me, readers, for I have sinned:
Forgot about you when I opened my notebook. Dismissed you when I held up the pen. Denounced you when I spoke words of love and hate and power and distress. You were there all along, But I didn't see you. You were the fly on the wall of my words And I didn't hear you buzzing. You knocked on the door to my heart And I was too busy piling armor upon armor on it. And now what good is it to see clearly? When the damage is done and the hearts are broken. When the words have gone and the curtain has fallen. When the notebook is filled but no words have been spoken. I didn't mean to forget about you, readers But I did. I didn't mean to dismiss you readers, But I did. I didn't mean to denounce you readers, But I did. What good is a poet without poems? What good is a reader without words Or an artist without paint Or an actor without action Or a shoemaker without shoes Or a musician without notes Or a dreamer without a dream Or a confessional without a priest Forgive me readers, for I have sinned: Thinking I was writing for ME when all along, I was writing for YOU.
0 Comments
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorIn April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling. Categories
All
Archives
April 2023
Header Art: Daniel Landerman |