(A prophetess in Greek mythology cursed by Apollo
to speak the truth but to never be believed.)
Words bombard the world
in rapid fire
Another book about wizards,
another poem about birds,
tweets about Trump,
status updates about dinner
websites for anything you can think to Google.
Why the Kardashians are famous.
What a chair would look like if knees bent backwards.
The things to read outnumber the readers.
Still, writers write.
In their lonely caves,
by monitor light,
they fill terabytes of memory
with the past and the future.
They churn together experience and understanding
until hardened into a vision worth writing down.
And then they hope that someone
is paying attention.
But no one is,
at least not at first.
Journalists wrote about the Taliban before 9/11.
Before Y2K, tech writers predicted
in our pockets
more powerful than Apollo 11.
A scientist published in 2019
about a coming worldwide pandemic.
No one listens until prophecies turn to floods.
Still, writers write.
They spew forth reams
of poetry and prose
and journal entries
and investigative reports
and sometimes just half-thoughts
or a particularly interesting turn of phrase
on a random Post-it note
barely clinging to a wall for years
until used or discarded,
but playing on the mind of the writer
in ways both certain
Half-thoughts that may never be read by another,
but recorded anyway
for naught but potential.
Words newly discovered
or characters formed in journals like pop-up books,
story lines and first-time rhymes scratched on a pad,
then shaped in a computer,
then offered to a first reader
like an initial visit to a new therapist
and waiting to hear
whether to expand or contract,
whether to improve or
whether to shake the etch-a-sketch
until the lines are faint
but if improved,
then posted for the world to see
even if no one listens.
Because the Post-It note held an idea that was true.
Because the work holds the prediction of a world
made by our own hands.
Because when the flood comes,
and floods always come,
words from dry land
will be needed.
© 2020 Deb Moore, All Rights Reserved
Published by Deb
Poet, essayist, novelist, writing instructor, music lover, and general optimist.
View all posts by Deb