What is My Calling

What is my calling

To speak for those that are mute

Injecting logic

In this illogical world

Fighting the way I know how

With pen and paper

The written is the sword

I wield with honor

Far mightier than the tongue

Brandished til the day I die

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Stuck in a rut, a ditch,

Then again, maybe a canyon.

I yell and my words return

Echo after echo, a ricochet.

Each time I try to find my voice,

It rebounds a fainter rendering of itself.

Reminiscent of a story,

One told ad nauseam until it is no longer heard.

Story after story,

Poem after poem,

Groundhog day.

Where does the voice hide?

How does it break out of it’s own mediocrity?

It calls in hushed tones,

Knocks at the threshold waiting to be let in,

Though somehow I’m too late to answer.

So I wait, peering through the peephole,

For the sound of my voice,

To knock on the door again,

This time I’m ready.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~