poem: Having it out with the muse

The art of poetry is uncompromising.
Sometimes it's about things I'd prefer
not to bring to light,
like loneliness, and grief.
Things that seem stale and old to my conscious mind,
or just incongruent to the life I'm leading,
which is rich with all the colors of feeling.

I have to remember, in those times,
that the voice that speaks out of me
is not my own,
and in a very real way,
I'm not responsible for its preoccupations.

I'm only responsible
for letting it flow through me
and releasing it to the open world,
which may or may not be interested.
But that, also, is not my concern.