Emily Winters                                                                                                        

“Poets Anonymous”

I walk in the wild fancies

Of my forebearers,

Yet I do not wish to follow in their footsteps.

                                                             We frequent haunts                                    

Akin to gothic moors that mimic

Our cynical and overcast souls

And hidden forests dappled with kisses

Of the sun’s light,

Hinting at the smothered optimism

That we all fear to let loose upon the world.

This house is familiar:

It has stood and weathered

Long before I was born,

Yet I wish to build a home

Apart from my father’s,

A home where I can feed and clothe my children;

A home where I can love

Within the boundaries

Of my own terms.

I wish to stand apart:

Up when the world is cast down

And down when exuberance

Creases the corners of every pool and river.

All strive to earn a name;

Not a likeness,

Not another _____,

The next ________!

This house raised me

From the ground

And watered my roots

So that I could taste the sun

Upon wheat-shaded hair

And through the roots could I share

A connection with the past and future –

Shall I be my very own pebble

Necessary to lull the river to bed

Yet singular as the current around me bends?

These autumn forests

May taste of Mother’s goodnight kiss

Or laughter wafting through the rafters,

Yet what is oddly familiar

Is often a new adventure,

An entirely wondrous home

That proves that new,

While not better than old,

Is just as breath-taking.