the indelible ink of my pen
speaks when my voice fails
in the times that my mind is spun
from the jumble of circumstance, emotion and choice
it loops around fears, anger and memories,
screaming nightmares of times long past…
choking them into submission
so i can take them into control
and avenge those times when speaking meant punishment
and ask for a bit of grace
to flow through the barrel and tip
of this mighty weapon
my pen cries, brags, and glorifies
when my tongue decides to strike on grounds of appearance
sometimes it rips through the paper to a truth i needed to see
sometimes it glides as i find my own worth
bringing integrity and intention to my thoughts
sorting to expose the highest of them
through the mire of baser feelings
it is the tool of my inspirations
and the vessel for uncried tears
sometimes flowing with rhythm and rhyme
sometimes just symbolizes a relentless stream of thought
until i find the warmth of forgiveness that settles over me
as the pages of my journal bleed back the ink
that spilled from my soul when i had let go my past
and inscribed the dreams that i never thought possible;
until i realize that i am now living those dreams…
there is magick in the pen.

© 2010hawilcox

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