I am a poem.
A stark reminder of our time; A note found by a teacher; A message in a bottle. You can bruise me but I won't hurt, Because I am made of air, you see. I shatter in pieces when I am touched, I vanish, Until you'll see me again -- When the next pandemic hits -- When that heart breaks -- Or the bombs drop -- On those innocent bystanders -- On those mothers and children. War and other human hobbies: The stark reminder of our time, Of ANY time. I am a poem: I can be caged up, Or swallowed whole, I can drown in a puddle, Get crumpled and torn, I can be broken, again and again and again, But none of that matters, Because I am a poem, you see. I am a poem -- Always melancholic, longing to be free. I am a poem -- And you shall not name me I am a poem -- A stark reminder of the knowledge tree. And what are YOU, human? What are you, the unnamed poet over there -- writing me?
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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
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Header Art: Daniel Landerman |