Reading Between the Lines
I just read my entire book of poetry
and was amazed to discover
that what I wanted to say
actually never made it to the page.
I thought I had written it down.
I even have memories of it,
me late at night in my room,
with only the moon
and a few wolves howling inside me.
But I couldn't it find it anywhere.
Oh sure, there were lines,
but they were
more like the ones you find in a bank,
lines that barely moved,
filled with fidgeting people
waiting to get something.
I think someone must have stolen it
when I was out to lunch.
The good lines were missing.
They were definitely gone,
though I did find a few
interesting spaces between the lines,
really good spaces,
spaces that seemed as if
they were just about to be filled
with what I really wanted to say.
You know, the good stuff --
like the moment when your child,
thrilled you have just returned home,
runs headlong into your arms.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at April 19, 2012 11:40 PM
Just love this. Thank you.
Your poem touched me deeply. Music can be, among other things, a transformer of silence. Poetry too. I feel like sharing with you a video of Cecilia Todd singing "Tonada de dos tristezas". I have very seldom seen or heard anyone's silences sing so loud and clear, and reach so deep into one's heart.
All the best to you
Posted by: José Luis Tubert at April 27, 2012 01:14 AM
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