I read your poem

In olden days we would have said

things like an act of grace,

an endeavour noble in intent,

humanity at its most heroic,

the heart speaking,

the soul’s voice

and why not indeed

I read your poem.

I have nothing much to say

and yet everything to say;

writing a poem is all of those

and every real poem is

one great step for humankind in you,

an archaeology of the soul,

a self-exposure,

a challenge

so what I have to offer you

is respect. Pure, real, boundless, known respect;

you’ll read your poem back

and your next will take account of that

better than any comment or advice of mine;

we’re both poets; we both know

that we’re engaged on a cosmic task,

on the kitchen table, and it’s

no less than those images from the Hubble

of nebulae, stars exploding and colliding

and being formed; being formed.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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