tender resignation

Photo by Julissa Helmuth on Pexels.com

what do you do when you realize that the talent you possess for your art
is rough-hewn and not up to any task

not for golden voiced angelic purity
not for following literary norm

and that it would take the years that have already passed by
to polish your voice to the point where it could give forth
a clear noted perfectly pitched symmetrically designed literary marvel


practice makes perfect for the artist

but what about for those of us who are just using the sound of our own voices,
the words flowing from our fingertips
as another way to breathe when life is heavy with smog


i cannot see the future but somehow i know that i
am not it

like a horse ready to retire
my path is off the track now

it might lead somewhere quiet and green
and the only way to be happy will be to accept the world is going on without me


the cutting edge, the bleeding edge
is sharp, there’s a reason they call it that
and i’ve already bled out

i’m fit to hold together what’s already here but not to build anything new


i don’t lament this, it’s not a loss
since all of this was a stretch anyways
but my eyes have opened to my place and it’s not here

it’s best to find that place that looks kindly upon amateur maturity
a place where i can train to become better at being who i already am


the world is a very big place and that’s exactly the problem
but perhaps also the solution.