Poem: And Suddenly, I Matter

And Suddenly, I Matter

The trouble is, there are a hundred others like me,
maybe thousands, all ticky tacky the same,
spitting out emotions a bit more fluidly than most,
but no more. Nothing particularly creative.
More confessional. More searching.
Trying to find the dark places and make sense of them,
seeking light on the days I am not feeling it.
Rearranging words and history, Musical chairs
with an almost familiar tune.
At some point, all that you are is out there.
I just am not that complex, not that deep.
Moderately original. A bit used up,
But….. I have not found the answers.
Not enough of them yet. Demons still nip at my heels
and words are my weapon of choice.
So, I write, whether I want to or not.
I write, chipping away at the marble
of traumas long past, like a hunk of Michelageolos marble,
honing my skill, putting it out there
in a world where everyone is putting it out there,
amazed some days that it makes a difference.
Amazed some days when it does not,
never knowing quite why, but understanding
nothing I feel is mine alone. All suffer.
All struggle, Just not all at the same time,
and now and again, my raw edges connect
with someone else’s and suddenly, I matter.

About this poem.

Some days, I wonder why I write. Why I pastor. Why I paint. Why I……. Yeah, you get it. Most of us have days like that. We just want to matter.


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