I was a stranger in their midst,invited there to share the little
that I know about a thing or two,
and so they listened carefully, attentively,
and seemed to get the feelings stuck
there on the page, the joy and sorrow
masquerading in the shape of
letters. Not wanting to offend, they asked
if it would be alright to snap applause,
as if I were a beatnik poet standing
in a darkened, smoky room reciting
thoughts I'd never share in pleasant
conversation. Alright? It was the highest
praise, the simple snap of fingers
telling me they heard me, heard my
heart, and understood my words.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014
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