Hermit

I wrote this poem while brooding as usual over the difficulty of finding readers or of being heard, in this all-too-noisy world.

I have been interacting more in-person with the writing world around me lately. That, as well as working on too many dull but unavoidable administrative tasks, has caused me to be less active here. I will work on publishing a post about those human interactions in the near future.

Writing and Blogging seem to work at cross purposes, sometimes. Being silent about your writing means you are certain not to be noticed. Publishing on your own site raises the chance you will be noticed, but perhaps guarantees a blind eye from those who disapprove. It seems like the industry of publishing is morphing as we speak, and may well be an entirely different creature in the next ten years. It is hard to know how best to swim in such changing tides.

I finally resolved to keep on chugging on this blog while I write longer pieces on the side. At least, I will have the pleasure of seeing my work “in print”and of interacting with the delightful people I have “met” here.

This poem about ambition applies not only to writers, but I suspect the writers among you feel this keenly. Thanks for coming by to read and thanks also, for waiting out the past month without a single solitary post.

While I wait

For the cookie to crumble,

While I wait

For the next shoe to drop,

All this time, Loving-Kind,

While I focus my mind:

Nothing serious.

No bumper crop.

While I wax

And I wane melancholy,

As I open

My eyes and I rise,

I view vistas of white,

Showing all that I might

Maybe do,

If I’d de-euthanize.

Though these parcels

I make may be tiny,

And their value

Quite cheap, on the square,

Yet each one that I sell

Makes me scream, makes me yell

From the mountaintop

To the sea air.

Yes, a hermit

Like me must be modest.

I must taste

And yet never be filled.

But my future, so bright,

Whets my starved appetite

And my pride

Takes a-hold of my will,

And they run away,

Screaming,

Downhill.

Copyright 2023 Andrea LeDew

For another look at the North Carolina mountains and a much beloved hermit, read The Cabin. For another Deadly Sin that pops up frequently in writers, whether we admit it or not, read The Jealous Type.