Listening to every heart
It is not with meek insight that the words do come
But more from the workings of mine heart, and then some.
It is a wanting to share what is within me, that mystery
I think that is within my mood, or am I just deceiving me?
And to read others’ prose as quickly as they appear
Imparts in me a reason notwithstanding my fear
That my expressions would be ridiculed or simply ignored,
For I see that it is “Katy, bar the door” in simple, straight rapport.
Those who compose and interpret here within the confines of a monitor
Call of themselves friends, and could range from president to janitor extraordinaire.
What with their special ground of interests to collaborate with
One that dispels the harshness of the critique, and any other myth.
But a simple digit by the side of my name I now see
And know that someone has reviewed the rhythm within me
…and what they do not know is how their comments reach
deep inside not only head but heart, and I beseech
All you interpreters of the written word
Set you me free to fly again upward
And while your comments may impale my heart
You know silently, once again my words will I impart.
Words will always express our feelings true