Courage is not your strong point.
You apply the veneer with the best of them.
You fight fear,
armed with little more than a smile
and an outdated faith,
fully out of fashion, and yet
About this poem.
This began as an essay. Then became a long rambling poem, a Miltonesque monolog on faith. Then I began to whittle and whittle, to chip away and clip off a word here, a line there.
This is all that was left.
That’s the way life works, I think. Whittle away the crap and eventually, you get to the good stuff. The reminder, the lesson, is probably better than the poem.