Insecurity (message to a critic)

A young writer's plea

Don’t tell me
That I could easier die and be reborn,
Or fly!
Suck up the atmosphere in one breath,
Rather than be able to express,
With style, rhythm and form,
Who I am.

Don’t speak
In a hesitant way about strengths,
While letting pass lightly,
But quite rightly,
The flaws,
The garment, I know, is loose and torn,
But the material is fine -
And remember, it’s hardly been worn!

A map,
A guide, I want you to be,
I haven’t a compass or skill of hand,
To chart a path –
To note landmarks along the way,
Focus the eager, searching lens,
On the curve of a limb – or infinity!
When on the road I’m pushed,
No sooner discovered –
I’m lost!