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That Night When My Poem Was Stolen

that night when my poem was stolen
i looked up the sky and saw
the moon smiling and the stars winking
more beautifully than before
and i was wondering
the change

something must be special
about what i told them
my poem was stolen

the wind was in a hurry leaving
a message that i should have been angry
and should have reacted
the way other poets do
report the matter to the authorities
and file the charge
of intellectual thievery

i could have reacted like an angry man
deprived of a priced possession
but on the other hand
i, go beyond what others think,
i could be more kind
and understanding and more compassionate
to thieves
i ask: does he like the poem? does he love it
so as to steal it?
will he sell it? will he keep it throughout his life
and treasure it the way i treasure it too?

in the last analysis, that poem is not really mine too
it is God given, a gift during another birthday of
emptiness, another day of loneliness
and in fact, the poem was about a black rose
unfolding its petals on a very dark night
and then coming out of a crevice from
a deserted building and then found a way
to bloom one morning
but darker still....

all my poems, anyway, are written for someone
or anybody out there, lurking in the dark, looking for an opening,
wanting to drink the coming light of day, searching for their angels
of light and freedom and happiness

well, that poem that was stolen, could be intended
or meant for the thief, and so, i have come to the conclusion
that i might as well, finally,

give it to him
or her, i don't even know who that shadow was,

there was simply this shadow fading in the ward.
that poem now shall be my gift to whoever shall have it
in the future

i think, i know, how it feels now, to really give, even if it hurts.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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