When the Ink is Mine

When the Ink is Mine

I set my voice upon the page

where ink remembers every age

the paper waited still for me

to shape the words that needed free

No machine will echo mine

nor twist the truth in tangled line

my thoughts are born from breath and bone

and speak in ways that are my own

Each word is weighed with care and cost

a part of me is never lost

I give it slow I give it true

and guard it from the grasp of you

No code can taste the evening rain

or feel the pull of joy and pain

no copy made of glass and light

can see the dark I hold at night

I keep my ground I will not yield

my voice is mine it is my shield

and every line I let be read

is one no stranger’s hand has fed

So when my pages turn to dust

and all the pens are red with rust

the echo left will still be mine

a human mark through all of time