A Life in a Pen

A creature of conscience such as we

Are meant to feel buoyancy and grief

And when the latter is felt

It is as though iron is smelt

On our skin

And when the latter is felt

A sword pierces every fibre of our being

And when we lose what we love

It is as though death is a release

In losing someone I held dear

The world lost it’s hue

And I did not hear the birds that spring

And every pain was felt in my heart

I looked down at the world from my peak

And thought of dropping to the pavement beneath

But before I did I wrote of it

In poems did I find my solace

For words hold an unbreakable promise

To never betray you

So I turned to the pen

Scribbling the darkness out of my head

And with every rhyme

And every stanza

The sound of the birds was renewed

As was nature in every hue

So I looked out from the summit

As I look from it now

And I look in my hand

At the pen that saved my life

And as the ink poured out of it

My soul poured into it

And truly

My life was in a pen