by Emily Conrad

When Poetry Leaves

Poetry up and left
just when I needed her most.
Doesn’t she know she’s a ladder
or at least a guide in the dark?
Her feet, retreating, so quiet
ears don’t notice her go
until the crippled remains
pound the drums of language,
meaning lost in the noise.
Mute, and mostly deaf,
I borrow your Words
     I burrow in,
     I memorize,
     I call them mine.
You are the Poetry,
the only Word I must speak,
the only Ladder I need,
the only Guide who redeems.

Though this post doesn’t follow one of the assigned prompts, I drafted it in 5 minutes (with a little editing after), and am including it as part of the 31 Days of 5 Minute Free Writes challenge. Find out more about the challenge here, or read all of my responses to the challenge here.