The Power Passes by Marie Lecrivain

to Seamus Heaney, with respect and gratitude


Today, I woke to find
another hole in the world

left by the passing
of another poet.

His soul wafted over
the bobbing heads

of those willingly bound
to their idiot boxes,

and they paid no mind
to the altar of words

carefully tended
by the few and faithful

 he’d built in tribute
to humanity’s
half-baked genius.


Dear Earthlings,

Why don’t you see
how empty life becomes

when your bards depart
to the ether? What will

happen when words
leave your lips
for the last time?


Somewhere, a poet is born.
In the moment

 she reads between the lines
of the one who’s gone

before her, the power
passes into her heart

and into the hand
that wields a pen.

Marie Lecrivain © 2013

at the mandrake 8/8/13 apryl skies © 2013