Wordsmithing

I am the people’s poet;
I write rhymes.
I am the people’s poet;
I sing songs.
They sit around me and look
into my eyes and
they want to know
if I have the words that will serve up
salve for their souls.

Their souls…
that they would let me even begin
to touch the essence of spirit
that makes them divine and beyond
this world is mindboggling,
is pure power and joy that
could lift me higher to a new level of
glorious wordsmithing.
Yet without recognizing the
crookedness of my spine and
the weakness of my breath,
I can do nothing.
The magic lies in
the not noticing.
It is spun when the words
Flow
And I look at them later
And…find they move me
And weave back into my own experience.