Holding Poetry too Close

There's that romantic notion of poets and artists consumed with passion, producing masterpieces in some sort of crazed delirium of creative energy. Oddly enough though I keep finding myself, as much as I believe totally in the power of creativity and human interaction... I keep finding myself not turning to it, somehow doubting it. However, we wouldn't be poets, playwrights, painters, directors, if we didn't somehow at our core believe that we can make a differnce -- and not only that, but taht other people and their work, if we are open to it, can make a differene in our lives.


Crisis of Faith

Like all things held tight,
Passions close to heart,
Like priests in wartime
That lose their religion.
We can lose our poet’s heart
To tightness of grip, fists
That squeeze the blood out
Right between our fingers.