I have had artists bestow their feelings upon me before. One young gent presented me with a watercolour he had created of my youthful summertime beach. Another admirer gifted a charcoal portrait of me. In the musical days of my teens, a boyfriend wrote and performed a song for me. Sadly the painting and sketch have disappeared from my collection, and the song was forgotten almost immediately. But never has anyone written a poem for me. Until now.

To have a poet whose work enthralls you, a man you love and respect, write in his own words what he sees when he looks at you, is soul encompassing. He presented the poem from the lining of his jacket yesterday, reaching in as one would a secret envelope in spy movies. He stretched his arm out to me, the trifold paper in his trembling fingers, and discreetly lulled in his low, husky voice, “I have something for you.”

I took the paper in delight, expecting it to be one of his works of poetry that I provoke him to share with me. After reading the first two sentences, I glanced up and met his eyes, and realized this was his poem to me. I continued reading in the silence of my mind. Tears borne from this personal tribute could not be blinked away. Finally, my cracked voice uttered “thank you,” and the man embraced me. I cried, really sobbed, into his chest with his arms surrounding me within the strong bond of friendship.

Words, and the feelings of these words, even if the poem becomes lost and the lines forgotten, will be etched in the book of my heart forever.

The pen is mighty, and when directed by love, can create an eternal power.

Let us flourish our power of words throughout our communities. I believe in love. We can be powerful, together.