Revision

Just a few tweaks to a holiday gift.  Time spent:  a lunch, an hour after dinner, a morning coffee break–a lifetime of New Years’ wishes.

Happy Holidays everyone.

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you asked me for a poem. A clever and brazen
request. It’s not so easy. Poems come and go. Fly
like rage into the night; pink elephants big and heavy,
sobering. How to write a show poem full of dance
and song. Happy is a place I know, though who would believe it?
Words run amok telling stories bound in anger; reactions.
I am safe inside a poem.
Outside, when the wind blows bullets, I hunker low
eat silence, not so brave. Today,
I ask forgiveness. Talk and write from a gentle heart,
my gut recovering slowly. Forgive me for not knowing
the devil in men sooner than later. But do you believe
in fate? The world spins so quickly. I was afraid
I would be left dying, pronounced imperfect, immoral.
If intuitively I could have recognized love’s imperfections,
instead of believing because someone says he loves you
he loves you. Some clichés are to be taken seriously actions
speak louder than words (this is not about you). To speak/action.
Not to speak/inaction. A poet needs words, has faith in words.
You have asked for a poem. Here it is. You have said tell me
so I understand. Thank you. So here it is. You, I have taken
slowly. Cautious. Devil and angel. I embrace you, trustworthy,
with wild enthusiasm. I don’t expect devil to harm, nor angel
to deceive. Still, I won’t imagine conclusions because
I am not seeking endings. In answer to your question, yes,
I believe in fate; I also believe in choice. Thank you
for the conversation, please, more. Curiosity
is the Christmas gift I give to both of us.

Sherry Quan Lee
Copyright, December 21, 2009

About Sherry

Author. Poet. Teacher. Mentor. Chinese/Blackbird.

One Comment

  1. Sweet! I love this! Thanks for sharing, Sherry.

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