A Postmortem for Your Words

When the world finally dusts

off the covers of your journals,

it will keen:

the groaning of the ships they sail their hearts in

against the razortip whitecaps you composed.

When the planet finally wakes

up to uncover your musings,

it will teem:

the scortched-earth campaign you waged on their hearts

yet wagered they would return again,


Or you could give them

a bit of a head start.

Trust me,

I know how tempting it is to belittle your work

because it is yours.

But nothing could be further from the strength

with which you have been laboring at these oars.

You are farther out here than you think,

only because you haven't had much time up on deck.

But this vessel you share passage in

has cleft a wake of wrecks.

There is home on the other side.

No purpose pretending there is no purpose.

Now write. Now dive.

Or risk pretending you thrive 

at the surface.

There is power in the one you know.

Power in the words 

he lets you have.

There may be Wrath in every syllable.

But there is Love 

in each paragraph.