A Magician I Am Not Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Every now and then,
I have to stop to convince myself...
A magician I am not.

And no one has to tell me,
They have watched my life to live it...
Through a microscope,
With a doing to give their interpretation.

Although I have been told,
On several occasions...
Who did what and when to assist,
To give approval of my efforts to endeavor.

I have had folks tell me not to use 'their' names,
On my own independent adventures claimed.
To explore and describe.
With a doing to share my mental escapades.
While they fantasized steps made,
I actually witnessed to realize.
Why would I want to use 'their' names,
On my ambitions?
I kid not!
I don't even drop names of those I know,
Who have toiled alone to reach mountaintops.

And I am not the only one,
Made to feel they must defend...
Their experiences to live.
Or prove what has been documented,
Validates their earned credibility.
I am not going to be placed in a position,
To excuse my success.
I don't feast to feed on that kind of B.S.
Nor will I allow myself to recognize it served.

What I've accomplished to do with initiative,
Can not be purchased to buy it sold.
Or put on lay-away,
Until all payments have been made.

Everyday as I get up on my own two feet,
To face obstacles and opposition to defeat...
Malaise, indifference, criticisms and complaints,
Is a challenge to confront on a daily basis.
Especially from those who have chosen this,
As their perception of a way of life to live.
While awaiting for someone with a magic wand,
To make a ship appear delivering sweatless wishes.
From places where they sit,
Prepared to elaborate on activated embellishments.

Everyday as I get up on my own two feet,
There is malaise.
There is indifference.
There are criticisms and complaints I meet.
And the only assistance,
I receive to accept and expect to get...
Is from a faith that stays to remain sustained.
Now...
If that is considered to be a magic trick,
Then the doing of it I can not deny.