Epiblog

A dear friend was expressing her thoughts about my poetry blog and she asked a wonderful yet seemingly simple question, "Do you feel exposed?" At that moment, I responded that I did not feel this so much, attributing this to having been previously published. But later, I thought about posting some very recent poems and I realized that if I shared them now, I would indeed feel exposed. A fellow poet with whom I confessed my apprehension, reviewed these recent works. My question was this, "Do you think these poems are too personal?" Her response to me was the following:

"Unless you are in your poems, they will not have the life you intend for them…[the poems would be] like motherless children."

"Humm…" I thought, "So true."

I decided not to make these works public just yet. One day, they may find a place in the outside world, but for now they remain as "conversations between close friends".

And so this helps to conclude the section on Colors and the blog with a previously published poem from "Missives" (Codhill Press, 2009). It is still very personal.

Grey

Worried that the light will fade 

without an eye to see its passing.

And the last utterance

will be inaudible.

Worried that we will not notice 

the fade from green to grey.

Worried that we will not recognize 

that She is gone

and that we are alone—

wondering who we are.