I Could Have Stopped Writing

i could have stopped writing
some letters on my wall
some words on a clean sheet
of paper, i could have stopped
many years ago, when things
lack the luster of meaning
the shining hues of explanations,
steps do not traces steps
on the floor, and what the windows
see sometimes are so untrue
and my eyes are blinded
with so much light from the
slits of light coming from the
noonday roof,
i could have stopped writing
and tell myself: oh, there are more
important things in my life
to do, and there i may take
some colors for meaning
blue for peace and red for love
and violets for remembrances,

i could have stopped writing
but how could i? my throats dry up
my hands shrink, my heart grow holes
of hollowness, my lungs collapse,
my head falls off from my neck,
my body freezes, my ears close
inside its lobes,

i die without it. It is my life,
so how could i ever stop living?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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