“All that I am allowed to do is to write, but in writing, I am afforded a lot, by myself. I never pushed myself to write anything “cutting edge,” yet whatever a female writer writes in our medieval times, cuts edges by default.”
This struck a chord with me. I deeply respect my Tumblr associate for sharing original thoughts and works in the face of a world resistant to her efforts. In contrast, I don’t have to fight these battles. While I allow myself to express a lot on social media, there is very little push-back from the audience. I suspect the most wounded of my readers merely turn away. A poem about lust triggered by a need to connect received a surprising number of likes. There were no damning comments of impure thoughts. I am blessed in this respect. I also wish that I could share more. The well is deeper and the sea extends out of sight. These thoughts led me to write the poem “Revelation”.
I could scream to the unfair world
with ripped clothes and fetid breath
or slash my wrists in stark privacy
escape from this reality.
Neither is my preference now
though either would address the ill
still I must transform the angst
find a way to live my life.
Pen to paper is my salve
expressing what I’d keep inside
now revealed for a world to see
writing is my therapy.
Delights that cloud the mind
horrors that numb the heart
these I find answers to
by turning them in my palm.
Creativity is the path
treasured for its wide breadth
onto this I walk or run
other times I can only crawl.
The method matters not to me
as long as I sally forth
moving forward is my goal
as my life flows to be observed.
Creator of the darkest imps
womb to the brightest lights
both are not enough
revelation’s curse is too much
truth is given from my heart
though veracity is mixed with my regret
that I cannot share all I have
that you are not close enough for me to dare.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160806.