This was written for the Simply Snickers prompt this week – to use the words “sacred”, “secrets”, “self”, and “scorned”. Enjoy.

-Nicole
——————————————————–
I write poems about my heros, my heroines,
perhaps in vain, because I don’t know if
they will ever read or hear them;
but I do it anyway, because aside from
God, without them, I would be a deaf-mute
unable to laugh, cry, sing, or scream out
the contents of my soul,
so I cannot help but sing my out my love
and gratitude -
and now, it is your turn.
I don’t know if the Universe will
ever bring these words to your eyes or ears;

so if you ever read or hear this poem,
know that I have followed your
every note
every word
every photograph
every drawing
every sculpture
and every other artistic creation
since I knew that you existed
and I will keep reading your maps and legends,
readings your scenes and paragraphs,
until the day I leave this Earth
because I stand in awe of you and your creations.

If you ever read or hear this poem,
know that you are understood and loved
by people everywhere, including
and especially
me;
we know – I know – how much you treasure:
the wordless silence that gives birth to creation;
the sacred secrets of your life and self that you hold inside your soul, uneviscerated;
the way that both minds and universes function when open;
and how humans become beautiful chains when linked
together past flesh and through love and spirit.
We – I – will not violate you,
will not cross the boundaries of
flesh, soul, and privacy;
so we will read you through the
words,
photographs,
and artwork that you leave in your wake.

If you ever read or hear this poem,
know that you helped construct my voice.
Your lines creep in and out of my verse
like spectators sitting for only part
of a movie, but the warmth of your
words stays long after they have
risen from their seats and left;
or if it’s not your actual words, it’s
colors from the echoes of your songs
which seep into my heart and make
me shout rainbows from my mouth,
scribble spectrums from my pen.

If you ever read or hear this poem,
know that I respect you for refusing
to travel down the road of overnight success,
a path scorned in favor of being true to yourself.

If you ever read or hear this poem,
know that every time I look into your photographic eyes,
I see myself.
I see what I could be.
I see the depth of pain,
wells of joy and sorrow,
the same peaks and valleys that I myself have traveled.
If by the time I cross the corporal finish line
I am even half
or even a fourth
of the artist that you are now
or even a fraction
of the artist you were at twenty-four
I will die a happy, satisfied woman.

If you ever read or hear this poem,
I want you to carry away from it,
if nothing else,
my undying bliss
from the fire of inspiration
that you lit from a distance
underneath my soul.

If you ever read or hear this poem,
if you remember nothing else relayed
from within its lines and verse,
I implore you to remember at least
these two words -
THANK YOU.

Written 7/20/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

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