In Sacred Space [REV.]

I was a walking corpse before poetry fired
my veins - offering respite from frustration
wielded by an allergy that seemed to steal
my life from me; then you picked up on my
verse, stoking fires to burn away dross and
anger at a life lost, aiding me rehearse my
life anew, with poetry its guiding light, and
you strolling ahead, nurturing the flame

It is one of the reasons why I feared your
loss, since you’re the leader of my team, &
the integrity and honesty revealed beneath
a bitter persona you portrayed assured me
art can be created by normal people also -
I had thought only the immoral and amoral
could ever lay claim to creating art, yet you
made a space where I could be my naïve

Self & continue writing poetry; your role was
more than just the twisted artist to be saved
from self-conceit - showing me EVERYONE
has a right to be themselves in verse, I can’t
thank you enough but that you already know;
enjoy the rest of this soft afternoon - I hope
you’ll find that celestial rugby game you’ve
visualised - out there in Sacred space…