.Hmmm...No,writers don't get holidays... Writer's HolyDay
If had to set aside
a day
in honor of the mighty pen
and her companion, the paper,
it wouldn't be like Easter,
b/c poems and stories aren't resurrected,
they lay strewn
between bedsheets and moving boxes,
crumbled on Hershey's wrappers
and IHOP napkins,
smothered by that nagging feeling
that it's just not done yet.
Pen and Paper deserve
more than a week of Kwanzaa,
more than 7 days
crashed between other celebrations,
more than 7 candles flicking
phrases to be extinguished,
packed up,
and put away for next year's remembrance.
Pen and paper's celebration
is like an extended Ramadan,
where writer's fast,
feasting on knowledge gained in workshops
and coffee spots,
gingerly eeking out the glimpses
of the craft that speaks loudest to them,
in that moment,
in pencil,
black ink,
blue and red; revision scratches like dawn on the window.
A writer's HolyDay
comes in the wee hours of the night,
in the car,
sung by random pop stars
when the pen is almost dry
and the paper might be torn.
This is when we celebrate the beauty
of the written word.
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