Because I Care For What They Do

Just spent some hours delving into things
belonging to people whom I know, the
kind of claggage attached to baggage
they have lugged gratuitously for years

brought to light by fears of failure, fears
of inadequacy, depression, diminished
confidence. Call it an investment in creativity,
prurient maybe, and not my forte by natural

inheritance. These are talented people - the
worst I can imagine is I become focusless,
diffused, mired by their misery. But I’ve been
there and there is no magic panacea

I’ve been there, jeered as I drifted dismasted,
abandoned in express shipping lanes, run
down by 100,000 tonne freighters crewed by
comatose compliments of three cruising at

warp speed on blind-weed. Been there and
bear the scars. These friends, who bought my
time with their fine, unasked for compliments,
who stopped for a moment to share the view

write like I do, cheer much for the same things.
And I will not abandon them, will dare to prop
up the bulwarks against their insidious loss of
confidence because I care for what they do.
© I.D. Carswell 2007