Writing in the Dark

Here are the thoughts of a less divine director.  (Yesterday's poem was supposed to represent God speaking.)

                                                                       Writing in the Dark


                                                           I’ve forgotten my illuminated pen
                                                           again – the one that lights up and lets me
                                                           see my rehearsal notes as I write them –
                                                           so I am forced to set down my insights
                                                           by the dim spill of the stage lights. Later
                                                           I find most of my words are unreadable –
                                                           hieroglyphics with no Rosetta stone –
                                                           and I must confine myself to the memorable:
                                                           a missed entrance, a dropped line, and other
                                                           things they already know. I am more witness
                                                           than wizard now. I drown my prompt book here,
                                                           my charms all o’erthrown. I become part of
                                                           the audience whose applause will shape
                                                           all those young lives on stage more than
                                                           anyone’s directions. With or without me,
                                                           the show does go on.