Wounded Poet Poem by Susan Lacovara

I return to the keyboard
That holds all the letters of my life
Frenzied fingers telling my tales
In typed out testimony
Cursed...
I move the cursor
Line after confessed line

Words, mine, fall to print
Failing to keep them contained
In the vacancy of my hurting heart

I give them to those
Who know the pain
Who search for patience
Who bleed poetic blood

Here, stabbed and stilled
Stuck, and struck
By another's proclamation
That truth has been spoken
(A mere token of time elapsed)

I collapse into my soul's stanzas
As if their precise foundation
Can repair me
Rebuild my housing
Restore my sanctity
I soldier on

I come back
Riddled with bullet holes
Ever the warrior
Scared from the battle
Not knowing which side
Can actually claim victory
I wave the white flag of surrender
Stumble onto the gurney of poetry
Calling on the medicine of time
The remedy, the antidote
The one and only cure

My fingers tremble to write