You, Dear Reader, are only one
Of the 7.4 billion people now
Occupying space on the face
Of the earth. I am one of the
Others. I have no idea who
You are. The Blogger map
Shows activation in countries
As close as Canada and Mexico
And as far away as Kazakhstan,
But I cannot tell if any of those
“Hits” indicate reading or merely
Surfing from one site to another.
I’ve asked among friends and
Relatives in vain to locate regular
Readers. I pass out my card to
Passengers if I fly on planes or
People I meet on the street. I
Think dog-walkers move to the
Other side more to avoid me
Than my dog. I haven’t quite
Taken to slipping them under
Windshield wipers yet, but
It’s a lively consideration. Is
It really vital to me that we talk?
After all I’m not reading your
Blog even just to see what’s
Out there. Not that I wouldn’t
If you only made a comment.
You see, as any writer, as all
Writers, even those who scribble
My telephone number on
Men’s room walls with the
Admonition, “For a good time
Call . . . ,” I am screaming into
The cave opening not just to
Hear an echo. Years ago in
A college writing course I was
Taught, to be a successful writer
You gotta have chutzpah. At least
Enough to push yourself up to
The front where others can hear
You. And it’s good to have
Something worth saying—or
From your aspect something
Worth hearing. That’s the
Crucial test—do you believe
Enough in your own perception
And judgment to say with
Any confidence: Listen up,
Jack. I’ve got something you
Gotta know. Maybe you’ve
Heard it before but not so well.
Might make you laugh, maybe
Cry. Maybe want to tell it to
Your friends and family. Go
Ahead, tell it to your girl
Friend and you don’t have to
Tell her you read it here. Say
It came from your heart because
That might be what the words
Touched. All I’m trying to do
Is write a few good words to
You, for your mind, for your
Wisdom, enjoyment, whatever.
Even if all you’re doing is
Learning how to read English.
Glory and good wishes to
You, mighty Kazakh.
c J.S.Manista, 2016
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