Writing from nine to five … trying to get the reports out before the deadline chopped off the utility of their existence. Statistics, meetings, growth charts all to be compressed into 10 pages. Conclusions to then be discussed to be re-elaborated and rewritten. Day after day, year after year.
She’d wanted to be a writer. She took creative writing courses in High School, majored in Modern English Literature in College. She read poetry and was part of a poetry club. Then, she’d become the editor of the school newspaper and she took a journalism course, even a writer has to eat. She’d lost the way … and the wonderful poems and books she was to author, became stale reports.
She stopped typing as this thought screamed through her mind: ‘Is this to be my epitaph?’
words strung like chains
useless, urbane and empty
– without poetry
(c) G.s.k. ’14
Written for Ligo Haibun