2/30 (National Poetry Month)

I am waiting,

For the break,

The pencil sits in haunting silence, a monolith

It begs to conduct,

A piano to burn notes in a mystic heat,

A metronome ticks a mocking laugh as the quiet, builds

Paranoia grips the page, a begging prayer,

Encourages me to get over them,

To bridge this space between mind and paper,

To be heard,

But the notebook is a paranoid patient,

An anxious patron,

And I sit there, trying to produce some cure with a pencil,

But the edge is too dull,

The air feels too heavy,

The room ain’t right,

The page isn’t,

This damn pencil still ain’t share enough—and all the while,

a muse tries to break down walls built for protection, walls it can’t get past,

walls like a box, like a house you ain’t learn to call home yet,

And I try…to write…

With music,

With silence,

With others,

With no one but the words are a proud mistress,

choosing when they wanna cum/come,

I am no longer in control,

Just sending messages telling them,

“Hey come over, my doubt ain’t home.”

And I wait for them to let me know, they’re on the way

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Eric is a near 30 program director excited about what life has in store next. He has been a member and coach of youth slam poetry teams and now spreads poetry as a vehicle for empowerment at after school programs, artistic residencies and monthly open mics.