Paper Poem by Mary Champion

A man, overwhelmed by the trials of living,
put his feelings down on paper.
When living hurt
he put down his longing,
he added his heartache,
his pain,
and his regrets.
When living brought joy
he penned words to express it -
words to name who he loved,
to recount how he loved
and how he was loved in return.
And when his love was lost,
or love betrayed him,
he noted that also.
Sometimes,
he gazed from his window -
if there were clouds, he described them
and, if the sun shone on a clear blue background,
he related that.
In quiet times, when little happened,
he brought forth memories
and committed them to the paper -
happy recollections
or dark hauntings,
fevered imaginings.
Even his most tragic experiences
were absorbed without complaint.
When he walked in nature -
whatever the season -
and was moved by its beauty or by its ugliness,
his feelings were deposited on the paper.
His anger was often spelt out,
his tears spilt out
to add a watermark of grief.
He recounted his most profound thoughts,
his most trivial whims,
and the paper bore every word
with total equanimity.
It did not judge -
even when his darkest deeds were recorded.
For all its virgin purity,
the paper was not offended by sin
nor moved by goodness.
The paper bore the whole of his Reality
but it did not judge.