Keep Writing Poem by Donward Caniete Bughaw

Wrong grammar marks our earlier flaws,
You look behind to shift the trace.
The errors echo from those laws,
No eraser lifts the lasting trace.  

Unless you write it down with lead,
A pencil offers gentler ways.
You press again and guide the thread,
Yet smudges linger through the days.  

But graphite bites and will not leave,
A shadow settles, soft and gray.
The page remembers what you grieve,
The fiber keeps that muted gray.  

The best repair is just to write,
To fill the sheet and start once more.
Each sentence learns to stand upright,
And chase the thought toward a new door.  

Write on though silence fills the room,
No hands will lift, no cheers ascend.
Let ink push back against the gloom,
And let your effort toward heights extend.  

Write on though no one turns the page,
No eyes will scan what you have made.
Still leave your words upon the stage,
And trust the work beneath the shade.  

Some voices drag you to before,
They point and name each older crack.
As if the ink were bound to store,
And never see how far you track.  

They miss the growth between the lines,
The steadier tone, the clearer tone? wait — can't repeat 'tone'.
They miss the brighter, braver signs,
And not the ground where you have grown.  

So keep on writing, hand in hand,
Like breathing in and breathing out.
Each flawed draft helps you to stand,
The cadence life is all about.  

Keep living too, with ink-stained skin,
With marks that teach and don't condemn.
Let every fall live deep within,
And guide you toward a wider hem.  

No one walks a flawless line,
We stumble, cross, and start once again.
The winding road can still be thine,
And carry lessons from the pen.  

The edge will hold our small regrets,
But borders widen when we try.
Forgive the slips the wrist forgets,
And write until the fears run dry.  

A slip will leave a quiet scar,
It proves you chose to risk and see.
It fades but leaves a distant star,
To light the next that's meant to be.  

So do not dread the struck-out line,
Or critics who recall your past.
Each error teaches you to shine,
And wears away their brittle cast.  

The world won't pause to give applause,
But pages turn despite the clamor.
Keep writing through the quiet cause,
And find in work a steady hammer.  

Just keep on writing, keep on living,
With pencil, pen, and open chest.
For flawless lives are never giving,
And every line becomes your quest.