Thursday, January 24, 2019
The Hidden Poet––poem by Dorothy
The Hidden Poet
Later someone, anyone, may wonder
who she was,
what her thoughts were,
where she lived
and why, alone or
mated.
Some lonely student
may rummage archives,
seek interviews,
old letters and photos
and find in any of these
little trace of the hand
that wrote,
the lost image
in the mirror.
In death
as in life
she was mostly
hidden from the world.
She wrote from
the inner compulsion,
the inescapable urgency
to translate the ineffable
into words,
to tell the unseeing world
how it was
to have been struck
by the lightning of
the unknown,
to have been the bride
of uncommon necessity,
one for whom
the unseen lover
and the verbal capture
were the only visible
constants,
the one thing
that mattered.
Dorothy Walters
January 23, 2019
(image from internet)
