I Am I Think...

I am I think-  a poet
I thought I was something other once
(woman, mother)
or twice - but since have had to renounce all else
for fear of coming, succumbing
to the needs of it, money, love or dependent colors
of a sun filled morning..that too fails
as I fear I do

But poetry can be written even on a day
without color - even grey or black in light
and night will hold it too
or without love then it still seems to
come through,
somehow a line
accepted - a song, sung or wept
that can be as child cradled, or as duty fulfilled
with a promise of something more -
greater than any wailing wall
or any hall of fame's golden door

I can hold all pageant
in it - poetry - its mirrored grooming of word
whether its a vision of mind or mindlessness referred to,
it still is the self, my exposed wealth
these words
held extremely dear, as truth
manifested only to be viewed unkempt,
dissolvable, improbable by any other
displayed label said of life - (wife, friend, monster)
faceless it always is, poetry
unpainted, unwilling - to accept any lie, and if it
asks that I should love today, I do - willingly
if it asks that I cry, I cry....

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010

Posted for the Poetry Pantry, Poets United