271 unread items.

Someone’s soul, poured out on paper,
wrestled through the editorial process.
Two, five, a dozen rejection letters.
Tears of frustration and weariness,

wondering if this thought was really
worth putting down.

Somehow, published, birthed with fear
and embarrassment and pride and trepidation,
Would anyone care?
Would they read it, connect on that level
where we can’t really put into words
the idea, the feeling,
the ache we want to share,
for a moment, just a moment,
truly understand.

Did he sit for a moment,
tears in the corner of his eyes,
when his poem was
Poem Of The Day?

Did he read it,
read it again,
think of me, the loyal reader,
peering into his inner thoughts
over my morning coffee,
for that brief space
sharing his soul?

But, 271?

Well, that’s a lot, isn’t it?

Click.

Mark all read.