I'm not quite sure where this belongs, so I tried here. I hope it is alright
Love Letter From A Poet
There were times I wrote to exorcise demons. They haunted my past, invaded my present, and threatened my future. The words, pulled from my heart and separated from my soul took on a life of their own. They blended their muted shades of emotion into a veil of understanding that could be worn by anyone. They were universal, the feelings and the thoughts, and I gave them breath. I made them live for a time, painting them into a skyscape that drew others up into their heady clouds. They were violet and rose, teal and daffodil. The pastels of life woven together into a verbal tapestry.
There were times I wrote as a tribute, using a careful meter to sing a song of praise. A cacophony of errant rhythms pulled together into a melodic verse. The only gift I could give. The only way I could tell what was weighing upon my heart, and drawing tears into my eyes. For you, this is for you, a gift of my words.
There were times I wrote to provide an excursion into another realm. Plotting a course through a web of hidden desire and forbidden thought. Taking a stranger by the hand and walking them through the hollows of their mind, where erotic thought hung heavy from the boughs of vines of desire. In the end, returning them to whatever place in life they had made themselves most comfortable. Leaving them with scent of another place, another time, another way of life. Forbidden fruit cast freely from an un-teathered mind.
There were times I wrote to give credence to the silent wish harbored deep in my heart. A knight, wearing an armor of truth and kindness finding me lost in this world, and bringing me finally into the world, I knew existed somewhere. Even if that somewhere was the lone cavern of my mind. He was so very clear to me, a gentle man that spoke with a quiet temperance in his voice. A timber that rose just above a whisper, and never took on the rough edginess that so pervaded my life.
And there were times I used words as the tears that I was forbidden to shed in the light of day. The only way to express the deep pain I felt and could no longer deny. Gentle syllables used to quiet the racking sobs locked away in a place where no one could hear them. Ghosts of yesterdays pain, finally given a right to die.
Through all my life, words were the lover that enticed me, the friend that understood me, and the keeper of my hidden hope. Then God sent me you, and I am for the first time in my life, at a loss for words. How do I tell you how much I love you? How do I tell you how grateful I am that you came into my life? How do I let you see the endless depth to all these things if I havenít the words to paint you a picture? What is more, what good is it to be able to paint for you if I must keep the finished picture in a room devoid of light? I have found the beam that guided me over these past decades of pain. The ray that drew me farther on into the future to where my knight might be. It has led me to you. I love you.
© Copyright 2001 Sandra Hoisington - All Rights Reserved