It’s not true what they say.
I take up my pen, stare at the page.
“Once you learn it won’t go away.”
I’m an actor frightened on the stage.
But who’s watching, who really cares?
So what if no poem issues forth?
Blankness is the burden my soul bears,
A true reflection of my worth.
The world keeps spinning, snow starts to fall,
Spinning in wind, to winter’s skirl.
Snow falls, snow melts, the snow-geese call –
My voice is only little in the clamoring world.
Yet … little voices sung together can make a bigger song …
I’ll push my bike through snow and still feel strong.