I write poetry

when I have

adversity.

The stories come

when there is nothing else to do.

Poetry

braces me

against their faces.

It’s more than positive self-talk.

It’s the truth.

I might be the only one who knows that,

but that

doesn’t stop the power

flowing into me.

They come

two or three

in number

and challenge me

but it’s like looking at a lighthouse

or standing in a field of love

Daffodils

drunk

on intangible power

a flower

I sniff

It’s a free drug

intoxicated

My power fills up the room.

They fall.

I withstand

their demands

while they

wonder why

I don’t cry.

Because

I don’t have to try

I am.

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9 thoughts on “It’s the Truth.”

  1. Pingback: “It’s the Truth.” - Charlie Young

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