Poem: “The Critic and the Muse”

The Critic and the Muse photo

Photo of the printed text in the 40th Anniversary Edition of The Curry Arts Journal


The Critic and the Muse

I heard a whisper in the night:
“You must not sing.”
I asked, “Why not?”
and so I sang –
louder than a siren, warbling off-key,
yet the melody chimed like nirvana to my ears.
I sang to an audience of myself
as my heart burst open and filled itself with light.

The sky thundered:
“You must not write.”
I shrugged,
and so I wrote –
filling every page with cross-outs and rhymes,
scripting events from my reel of imagination.
I wrote until my pen ran dry, then reached for another,
knowing a new story begins when the previous one ends.

A scream rang out:
“You must not paint!”
I stood fast
and painted –
speaking the language of color through brushstrokes,
bringing canvas to life, the starry night into dawn.
I painted so the world could see itself,
and when I stepped back to study my work,
I could see my soul.

Then I listened –
and heard only silence.

© Sara Letourneau 2013
Published in the 40th Anniversary edition of the the Curry Arts Journal

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