THE PEN MUST STOP AND REST
March 14, 2012
Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn
Poet in the Rain Productions
T’s a bitter darkness that swallows the whole,
And leaves ghosts and angels to walk in silence.
Silence surrounded, engulfed in blackness.
Silence corrupted by the weakness of my soul.
Yet I write these words as thought surrenders to the pen.
I place them neatly on the white beneath the flow of ink.
And wonder, do I, what substance can they know, can they hold?
What meaning is there left for you, for me, for all women, for all men?
And then I understand, and pound my fists upon my chest,
For that which is written only for myself and a few convey
What is said in a shout, in a cry, in anger, and screaming, painful self-doubt
While realizing that no one will ever know, and so the pen must stop and rest.