description

i sat amongst the rest
graced with his presence
hearing the words fly from his tongue
like song
but not listening.
i heard the letters that formed with the
movement of his mouth;
they formed syllables,
which formed words,
which formed brilliance,
exploding with feeling
that he had reached for
with his own bleeding hands
and pulled out
relentlessly
until we could understand.
i heard
but i did not listen.
i sat there, eyes strained
forcing back the wetness,
oblivious to his genius
focused on the messiness
that is my emotion.
the pain felt
having lost,
having found
was cheap in my eyes as
i looked at him,
his intensity embarrassing me,
and although my mind realized
his talent was raw and rare
i thought you'd do better.
he has manipulated his words,
switched them
back
and
forth
and
back
and
forth
and
you
sitting on a stage
speaking
freely
beats
him
standing there,
lights shining on his
polished head
stressing each syllable,
emphasizing each word.
he worked so hard to convince us.
i needed you then
to get up and look at us,
silence him
and show us that
when it comes to feeling
to truly feel
there is no need
to convince,
for it is revealed
purely through presence.