Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen “Beleaguered” Servant) often gets too close to my truth, opening a window on my own life. This is the mark of a good poet. i painted to three of his poems for our show, WORD-ART, an exhibit combining poetry with painting. I encourage you to check out his site, No Talent for Certainty on Word Press.
(I’m doing the a to z challenge this year using the last letter of the word rather than the first because letter order is an arbitrary social convention not grounded in ontological reality. And because I’m capricious. – S.B.)
Do you still dream of who you thought you’d be?
Or is to quasi-be, indeed enough –
Do you still feel the first time that you felt?
Or have the nerves been worn away with rough –
For smooth were once the edges of your hopes,
And pure was once the life you thought ideal;
The minutes slip away into the void,
And soon you feel you can no longer feel —
There was a time that touch was everything.
The world you’d touch, the one who would touch you;
The little touches in the art you’d make
And how you’d keep the best up close, and true —
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