Authentic, Like Me

No story – well, there’s always a story! But tonight I just thought of National Poetry Writing Month and this is what came out, thank the gods of creativity and whoever was brilliant and kind enough to put WordPress into being!

Authentic, Like Me

One point over the line of demarcation
between myself and “clinical depression”
they say
it’s all in my head
they don’t understand
it’s not my head that’s the problem – I don’t
listen to it anymore — It just keeps churning over
the same old pictures and words
like some Hollywood movies that claim to be “new.”
How many are lifted right off the reels

of old classics
of the first celluloid flammable films…
and books, ha! They forget
that some of us still remember
books, luscious and dusty but still
as new to my mind as to the author
who penned it by quill or pencil, by manual which
begat electric, electric that begat “selectric”
with its pounding, whirling ball of
letters, numbers, symbols, and signs.

They forget that we remember the old, old tomes,
volumes of poems, covered in linen or leather –
so, when we see the “new” movies,
hear the newest songs
and read the latest pre-fabricated plots
designed to make obsolete
the sublime joy
of thumbing through
the delicate parchment pages
of an authentic dictionary –

well, I just wonder
how a one-sheet questionnaire
knows anything of my mind
my heart
or the words I have yet to reveal,
words that are real, unique – authentic,
like me
like the Muse who inspires
and Spirit who sends the lines
spiraling down my spine

just waiting, waiting for me to type
write sing dance depression be damned
slam them into being?

Postscript: Thank you, magic banyan tree,
my favorite of the three,
for the gift of a Ticonderoga #2 pencil
you left for me (yellow, of course,
and sharpened, almost new)
years after I’d written a poem
or two
or twenty pages of
streaming sobbing laughing lines
while sitting between your roots;

years
after sitting on the ground
was no longer an option.
But you and your sisters knew this:
authentic, earnest, soul-digging words,
like me,
like trees,
like magic,
will never ever give up
and never, ever die.

Lady Diane Randall

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