An Old Beginning

My Keyboard

Cold, impersonal

the keys click as my hands flick

Poetic failure

~~~

My Notebook

Warm and welcoming

Fresh pages stick together

Win for poetry

Lost intentions

She kneels unfeelingly on the worn leather cushion

Silently repeating the usual drone of meaningless syllables

Reliving the ancient stories in her mind

Recalling verses, words of wisdom, and other lies

You would think that she’d be the last to question her ways

Our ways--The traditions we share, the lines we hum so appropriately

Yet, in our poor girl’s head

Empty words crash into pointless periods

Tales once read with enthusiasm and curiosity

Roll down the folds of her pleated skirt
and sink into the reject pile

She’s not abandoning our beliefs, exactly

Just questioning, thoroughly questioning

The Lord’s flame once sparked in her for a reason

But as time dragged on, so did the lines in her face

And the cracks in her hands

And the despair in her heart

The intention was there once before
She had the power to live, love, and believe

I saw it with my own two eyes, smelled it with my quiet nose

The intentions loosely coiled themselves around her pain

They whispered to her softly -- begged for her to return
But her agony thrashed and struggled and eventually
the intentions began to
d     i     s     a     p     p     e     a     r