I want my ink
to be deep and wide
that my words should look
sure and unmovable,
rather than a thin
scrabbled mess
meant for temporary notes
and reminder.
Perhaps then
I’ll have more say
more control
over what I write
and how it moves
my world.
Perhaps, then,
I’ll adore those thick
inky strokes
and favor myself
more.
But pens are only
paper thick
and I must need
to write deep
into my soul
into the earth,
that cries and pleadings
won’t be ignored,
and somewhere deep
I can dredge up the words
to describe how much
I hurt.
Author T.S. Lowe 