Dear Editor:
By Janet Mae Best

My truth has stepped
onto this paper.
My words plucked carefully
like ripened fruit from
the farthest tree I can reach,
then arranged faithfully
on this white page
absent from all secrets.

All my truths exposed
as I stood naked in my dream.
I now pray for forgiveness
so please,
do not pass judgment on me.

For have you not seen me
dripping tears before the Lord?
He is the almighty—
the only one who knows.
He and I, not you.

Have you not lived my life,
felt my tears,
eaten from my plate,
studied my heart that aches for love?

Have you not stepped foot
into my shoes?
Have you not read
with my eyes
or written with my pen?
Have you not run
with my wind?
I think not!

So leave me to speak my words
as I wish.
Listen to my truths
brought to light
through my pleasant voice
that sometimes is weak
as it projects into this crowd.