The Poet’s Truth

This is the truth:
Too often I feel like a cripple,
unable to find the words
to express the depths
of my passion, my fears, my struggle.

All my study and practice,
all my years toiling at my craft
feel wasted, shallow, a cosmic tease
to fill a heart with so much,
then lock it all in with a lack of language,

trying, always trying
to capture the essence
before it flies away,
life’s vibrant colors laughing
at the cripple who dares to dance.

About this poem.

That is how I feel. Often in fact. And yet, I keep writing, no matter how often I seem to miss the mark. It’s a good thing I don’t get graded on this. A very good thing indeed. 

The picture was taken at the Botanical Gardens near Niagara Falls, in Canada.

Tom