Tribute

To Owen:

 

Sometimes the pen inside me stirs up memories of

words and friends and rooms and tears and

things said, and things left unsaid--

and strings them all together, stirs them

together with the ingredients of

form;

sometimes it stirs up sediment--

no,

sentiment--

and lets it settle, mingle

with the words...

 

Sometimes the pen inside me stirs up

stirrings,

feelings, for

someone; and sometimes it

stirs those feelings around inside me,

as if to figure them out, to

make sense of them;

to stir them into something with

shape, something

linear....

Surely it must grasp the idea that

some feelings are

not to be stirred, not to be

figured out;

yet on it stirs...

 

Sometimes the pen stirs

in a particular direction,

stirs me toward something

concrete, something

definite; and

 

sometimes the pen just

stirs.

 

Sometimes the people around me,

with their remarks, can

stir the pen.

My father stirred the pen

the other day, when he

spoke so fondly of the tribute I wrote and

read to you on our radio show--

told me how magnificently it captured

what truly makes you

special.

 

Sometimes the pen stirs its own unique meaning

for a word like

special.

 

Sometimes you stir the pen.

Right now, you are stirring the pen.

 

But you should know that

the pen never

stops stirring.

 

Sometimes the world tries to

stifle the pen,

to smother the stirring.

Some people try to restrain the pen;

they hold it down

with a two-by-four, as if to

squeeze out the ink,

bleed out any

inkling

of an idea;

but the pen never stops stirring...

 

yet, sometimes,

underneath the pressure,

it will merely

stir itself in circles,

into a downward spiral;

it spirals into a frenzy, and then

stirs back in on itself,

stirs itself ever closer to

the abyss of

self-doubt, as it

grapples with itself,

searches for direction...

 

Sometimes you give the pen

direction.

 

Sometimes the pen inside me stirs up notions of

rooms and friends and words and

seeing the light, or

lighting the spark; of

justification, of encouragement, of inspiration;

of things to be said and things to be heard and--

most importantly--

things to consider;

and sometimes it stirs up images of

cell phones and e-mails and inboxes, of

long messages...

and of someone who will read them;

who will respond

to them, to me,

to who I am...

 

and I think of you;

and the pen inside me stirs...

and I need you.

Reviews

[C. Lee Battaglia]

Wow!
Very well written and it touched me,
Can I just say though, you have potential!
My favorite part was, "Sometimes you give the pen
direction."
Please continue to write and read!
Can you by chance look at my story The Blonde Girl, It would really mean a lot to me.
Your new fan,

C. Lee Battaglia