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The Poem

An invitation
To meet myself
In the free space
Offered by a page,
And perhaps bring
Some others along
To join in a celebration
Of life’s incantations.

Who knows what dragons
Might be conquered
By an apt word proffered
At an inauspicious moment,
Suddenly made perfect
In lines unschooled,
Unmetered, but found
Very appropriately.

The dream crystallized
In verse may be that one
Which settles in a wayward heart
Giving fulsome courage,
Reviving will once trampled,
By the rampage of harsh
Realities laced with death,
Resurrecting abiding hope.

Yes, it is meager,
Only words, but words,
Words hold the power
To encourage change,
Evoking freedom from
The penalties of chains,
No one can stop words
No boundaries can jail them.

The poem is innocuous
Unlikely to foster ire
But it carries the soul
Of desire untethered
By earthen fetters
It rises above language
Whispering on the air,
Sometimes unknown, yet bare.