An Artist’s Life
Filed Under (Poetry) by Estee on 11-11-2009
Hovering like barometric weight,
each morning before I wake
an effort looms.
It was your idea,
your invitation
upon the podium I stood.
You wanted words of hope, I thought -
Of the little engine that could.
Lauded once and quoted some
for better and for worse.
There I learned but also burned
A scorch within the wood.
Shaded once by gilded trees
like cold metal – forlorn.
The artifact, the word, the thought
A dropped seedling in the dirt.
Cut it down, say no more,
words of love be gone!
Do not remind us, this plight we lead,
or of dreams – you cling on.
Be gone you feckless writer!
Just who do you think you are?
If we smite you and apprise you,
You can go — afar.
Of books, of words of thoughts and form,
some mold and shape and bend.
With exaltations and deflations,
An artist’s life is spent.
— by (me)
ESTÉE KLAR
TORONTO, ONTARIO, CANADA
Writer/Curator/Founder of The Autism Acceptance Project. Contributing Author to Between Interruptions: Thirty Women Tell the Truth About Motherhood, and Concepts of Normality by Wendy Lawson. Lecturer on autism and the media and parenting. Current graduate student Critical Disability Studies and most importantly, mother of Adam -- a new and emerging writer.
