To Me This Matters

I feel more than a little out of place
As if my trusty pen does deface
The paper, that lies stubborn, blank,
My words hang heavy and outrank
My thoughts, which battle to clear
But struggle in a fog of fear.

I try hard to shake the demons out,
I will not sink to harbour doubt
Or turn to lay claim to fragility,
Fractured phrases mar ability
And jumbled lie and make no sense,
Cause rifts to form in competence.

I want to leave an inscribed trail,
To succeed where odds are set to fail,
To make a difference to the world
And use my pen with fingers curled
To hold the precious gift and savour
Writing truth without fear or favour.

I hope my words will fill a need,
Defend all of our freedoms, that lead
To providing power, to build, renew
And abandon weak words; join the few
Who have learned to wield a mighty pen
That defeats the brutal acts of men.

Evil might not be specifically based
Its head emerges when something’s erased
That leads to censoring our creations
It’s not linked just to religion or Nations.
At first subversive it rises and shatters
All I hold dear - and to me this matters.