royal decree,
they let me know
they'd chosen me.
They swept me off
my feet and then--
As swiftly knocked me
down again.
No longer did I want
to write.
I crumbled, fell,
turned out the light
on all the creativity--
let darkness take
that part of me.
The outskirt man
stepped in one day.
Said he felt he had
to say that words
I'd written long ago
had touched him and
I had to know.
No public
proclamation made--
no photos,
prize or accolade.
Unexpected--
quiet--
calm--
A spark of light,
a healing balm.
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