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Dead to the world I have failed you
Forgive me, traveller.
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Thirsty, I was no fountain
Hungry, I was not bread
Tired, I was no pillow
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Forgive my unwritten poems:
the many I have frozen with irony
the many I have trampled with anger
the many I have rejected in self-defence
the many I have ignored in fear
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unaware, blind or fearful
I ignored them.
They clamoured everywhere
those unwritten poems.
They sought me out day and night
and I turned them away.
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Forgive me the colours
they might have worn
Forgive me their eclipsed faces
They dared not venture from
the unwritten lines.
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Under each inert hour of my silence
died a poem, unheeded
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Fay Zwicky, “The Poet Asks Forgiveness” text from Kaddish, University of Queensland Press, 1982, River Road Press Copyright © 1982
Nexus 
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…………………
BLESSED
FORGIVENESS
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