The Quill
A poem from the point of view of a writing utensil

The Quill
Desireé T. Young
My vessel takes many forms
Pen, quill, pencil
Each one used for one purpose
To create reality
Yes, in the hands of my owner
I have the power to create almost anything
New countries, systems, diplomatic practice
War, famine, refuge, pain
I can heal someone’s heart
Or cause insidious ruin
I am the one weapon
That’s use has not gone extinct
Swords and bows with arrows
Have been laid to rest for war
But me, I lead the charge
I light the way every time
People downplay
My importance, my worth
They do not see
I am the most useful
Instrument they will ever need
But just like a genie,
I am bound to do only
As my master wishes
I witness the aftermath
From the safety of their pocket
The new reality I have helped create
Sometimes I’m grateful
But see even if they caught me
I have countless others
Just begging to lead
When a work gets long
And I cannot see it through
My protégé is there
To carry on where I fail
And so is the next one
And the next one
And the next one
Hydra’s got nothing on us!
The work we do always outlives us
It hangs in a museum
In your memory
You always remember
Every letter, every stroke
You even remember the
Color of my ink
I take many forms
Evolve over time
But one thing rings true
I outlive time
About the Creator
Desiree T. Young
Writing is how I make sense of the world. It is my retreat, my bridge, and my sword.
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