Writing Wrong’s Pain (Part 1?)
A pantoum after Ram
Where to even begin?
I dreamed my muse picked up my pen
And filled the page with a spin.
Yet I couldn’t begin to decipher its words.
I dreamed my muse picked up my pen.
I knew it to be a true friend and guide,
Yet I couldn’t begin to decipher its words.
So I opened my mouth to speak.
I knew it to be a true friend and guide.
I thought it would tell me what I’d tried to hide.
So I opened my mouth to speak
As the muse fell silent at my feet.
I thought it would tell me what I’d tried to hide.
I thought it would unlock the pain within my mind.
As the muse fell silent at my feet,
It had no words and I began to weep.
I thought it would unlock the pain within my mind,
But in its glance I knew the truth.
It had no words and I began to weep.
I had disappointed it somehow.
But in its glance I knew the truth
I and I alone could only right the unspoken wrong.
I had disappointed it somehow.
I had to earn its respect and trust once more.
I and I alone could only write the unspoken wrong.
And filling the page with a spin,
I had to earn its respect and trust once more.
Where to even begin?
— This poem is part of the Passing Pantoums project on Chalkboard. I borrowed a pair of lines from this pantoum:
And Ram borrowed the lines from Tamyka Bell in her pantoum, Around the Block
