Appeasing the Invisible
Nothing has more power than the invisible.
It pulls at me, urging my fingers to type on the keyboard,
Hissing in my ear to play with words like play-dough,
Snickering at the plot hole that sucks my story into a black hole.
Should I ignore the invisible?
Some enclose themselves in a steel balloon.
No fiery critics arrow can puncture their flight or plunge them to earth.
However, humans cannot breathe in the elevation of these works.
Perhaps I must cater to the invisible.
As a minister to his parish, a nurse to her patients,
I am the waiter, the stewardess, the ultimate in customer service.
Feeding endless starving mouths is my life’s mission.
The teeter-totter might be leveled perhaps.
Unsteady as my newborn feet are on this aged earth,
Maybe I do understand.
Minster, yes but not a god with all of the power.
Nurse who turns to the doctor when in doubt,
Waiter and stewardess reporting the abusive customer,
I am not in customer service but certainly do serve my customers.
Strange how what we create,
The invisible that writers make real,
– Readers –
Can become the monsters we most fear
Or the treasure we most desire.