My heart pangs in insecurity
A feeling of dread and woe.
The sensation familiar and detested,
Like some unforgotten foe.
The plight of the bard, the writer,
Whether fueled by genius or insanity,
Is a flame blazing deep within the soul
Our need to explore humanity.
O, for a moment’s peace!
Some respite from contemplation.
The frantic pressure to produce,
at war with gentle creation.
The battle rages deep within,
Creating strife and despair.
Panic sets in as words are smothered,
leaving chapters empty and bare.
Darkness shrouds the mind, all creativity gone.
But in the distance a light flickers,
It’s spark of hope we weakly lean upon.
The light comes not in ray or sound in scent or taste nor touch.
This radiance of hope is found in someone who gives much.
Her fierce protection, her unwavering belief,
Is a balm from the darkness and pain.
Her tenacity, so relentless, bold, and brave,
demands we fight the strain.
And so, we squash the doubt and fear
and cling to her courage.
To share the stories we’ve been given
for her faith will not be discouraged.
So here’s to you, Italia, my dear unfaltering friend.
An ode to your unfailing belief of the artist that lives within.