It....... Poem by RIC BASTASA

at the core
of your creativity is
an inflamed
certainty

you know it
but it is invisible
you feel it
but till this moment
there is still
no word for it

when you leave
the house
and stroll for a break
in that kiosk
under the acacia trees
at night
you see bodies carrying
their shadows like
burdens

you have a word
for it
and you are certain
and you want
them to know
what it is

you cannot utter
it. It is.

It is simply
not proper.