Good God of words, give
grace to me
I'm fighting with the
words to be
I've failed to spin the
net of dreams
I've lost my gift, or so
it seems
forgive my prayers, I'm
not worthy
I fear the muses have not
heard me -
sorrow took away my words
and my poor heart, it
bleeds, it hurts -
quiet now, oh child of
mine
no longer can I hear you
cry
you have the words, you
have the gift
you simply have to clear
the mist
face the fog and walk on
steady
if you wait you won't be
ready
sorrow cannot take your
words from you
be brave, my child, and
write on through
but my Lord, my Lord,
please hear me
my desk, my pen, my paper
– dreary!
My child, my child, just
listen,
pick up the pen, let black
ink glisten -
you don't know the pain,
oh god -
that's hidden in the
written word -
I swear, dear god, I
cannot write,
most days I would just
rather die!
I gave you words. I can't
do more.
Just write like you have done before.
What follows? That is up
to you.
If you don't believe, you
cannot do.
No one else could write
your tale.
There's only one way this
could fail:
If you don't write it.
That is all.
Your own choice – fly –
or fall.
e.j.l. // 3.7.2019
