By Ria Meronek
I have lost the ability
to capture words,
To snatch them from the ether
and pin them to the page.
I have lost the talent
to grab a comely phrase
and spread it on a line.
I have lost the knowing
of how to turn a sentence
to catch a reader unawares.
My pen sits silent,
poised against the page.
Ever patient,
waiting.
No urge to nervous doodles,
No want to practice curves and loops
along a line.
It waits
for the voices of the dead
to rise again,
For the muted cadence
carried on the backs and spines
and in fat bellies
of the words upon the page.
Ria Meronek has had a lifelong love affair with words, both as a reader and writer. She prefers paper over digital, pencil over pen and poetry over stories. She also enjoys the everyday writing of letters, notes, and lists. This poem was written for Tell Your Story of Home, a collaboration of Reinventing Home and Leap, an intimate platform for online learning.
