The Fire of Unwelcome Ideas
Spark from the altar of liberty
Will you finish this poem with me?
My words stumble from fatigue
My eyes burn from writing too long.
1776, your specter steadies my hand.
Let me see with your eyes
This unmarked trail that leads too far.
Unjustly reviled, adored by a few friends,
A mere offer of rum and a hearty handshake
Gladdened your solitary heart -
But only if your absence after taking a stand
Sufficed to smooth ruffled sensibilities in part.
Stay at least and watch as I select the words
That will seal my fate.
Nod your head slowly, "I know,"
As I write head on into the fire
Of unwelcome ideas.
© Judith C Evans 2010
Posted on Thursday Poets Rally #44 .