Half-finished

Photo by Fiona Murray-deGraaff on Unsplash

Who would want to read this, a half-finished poem? People want what is tidy, complete, productive, marketable, not half strands of words that don’t yet know what they’ll end up being. Erased, blown out, crumpled and started over is what this poem should be, yet here it is, still trying to be something, extending its little taproot and daring to stretch toward buttered sunshine, mustering the audacity to laugh in the face of the unknown, keeping on even though it’s unclear where it will end up, protecting its little garden plot on this page because being here, now, is better than waiting for some elusive, perfect, tidy poem to emerge in its stead. Perhaps someday this poem will be something more, something people will want to read, but for now, here it is on its journey, and maybe that’s the whole point.

-gh