Emergence

The story of Dejah & Summer in The Time of Magic resumes Saturday. Please accept this poem while you wait with bated breath for Chapter 21.

I hid my light
under a bushel
and waited for someone
to peer under the basket
and cry, “Oh, look! A light!”

but no one came
and no one cried
and I went along
in my not-so-merry way
until the day

that I put away my childish bushel
and stood up on the feet that God gave me
and said, “Looky here, world!
I am not a number, I am a free man!”
and precious few spotted the reference,

but for once I
didn’t quit after
one meager effort
and I resolved
to keep shouting.

I want to write poetry

I want to write poetry,
I want to sing songs,
But no one reads poetry
Or really hears songs.

But what does it matter?
I just want to write them.
If no one else finds them,
At least I will have.

Listen

Of course I want to be heard — everybody does.

Is the key to stop and listen for awhile?

If everyone is trying to be heard,
but no one is actively listening,
how can anything
or anyone
be heard?