I breathe I think I feel
I know I go through days
with only words to comfort me
and in the affirmation of the poem
I discover who I’m meant to be
I write poetry because
words tumble into truths I never knew
I knew and lies are left
to wither on the vine as words
compose themselves upon the page
I find my way through yet
another day…
I write poetry because
I see humanity
deprived degraded writhing
in unending pain as greed
and evil violate the weak
dismiss the need imperious and vain
stain the fabric of our world I watch
the planet shriveling like roses
in an autumn frost and I have only words
to give to quantify the cost
I write poetry because
I live my pain upon the page
my fear my truth through all the years
of trepidation that defined
my youth and now invades
like angry bees days that stand
on the fast-approaching brink
of my eternity
I write poetry because
there is a kind of comfort quiet calm
in crafting words
that rhyme that sing words
that bring a gentle solace to the mind words
like warriors to vanquish all the pain
words like lovers stoking long dead embers
of desire into flame
I write poetry because
it names me speaks me telling
me and others
that I’ve lived I’ve cared
I’ve tried and maybe failed but certainly
I dared more than I thought I could
words are always there prayerlike
they whisper to me in the night and welcome
me to morning
…when I am gone to dust
am less than just a whisper on the wind when every
memory of me has faded like the day must fade
to night the words I leave behind may offer
just the faintest hint of light and so
I write… – Susan A. Katz (11/18/2022 all rights reserved)