Influencer

I don’t want to to sound out of touch,
but I really am exhausted by the word “influencer”

that word suggests trying to
have control over somebody else

and there is already
too much of that going
in the world already

I don’t like the term
“clout” either

that word is too fickle for me

whenever I desire power it feels like I’m trying to hold a melting ice cube in my hand

I don’t want to
sway anyone

I want to serve them

I don’t want to
blaze a path for you

~ I want to get lost with you ~

to crave authority
would require me
to surrender
my amateur status

and I quite love being
a newbie here with you here

I don’t want to guide you down
this River

I want to enjoy the ride with you
until we reach the great waterfall

don’t follow me
flow with me

and as we go

let’s not influence
each other to be like us

instead

let’s listen to
each other

until our ears become
shaped like our hearts

~ John Roedel from his upcoming poetry collection “wonderache” ~

Called the Facebook poet, John Roedel has developed a reputation for heartfelt writing, often posting photos of his rough drafts hand-scrawled on lined notebook pages. From his website: “Offering a sincere and very relatable look at his faith crisis, mental health, personal struggles, perception of our world, and even his fashion sense, John’s writing has been shared millions of times across social media and lauded by fans and readers worldwide.” 

There’s something touching about this poem for me because it illuminates a tender vulnerability within myself. The shift from having had a career with influence to when, after its abrupt end, I began in earnest to write. Engaging in this mostly solitary endeavour, my sense of community is fragile and self doubt can arise from “the sticky web of personal/with its hurt and its hauntings,” obscuring those occasions when I“become a pure vessel/for what wants to ascend from silence.” (John O’Donohue, “For the Artist at the Start of Day”).

To write as an act of service – not to sway, or blaze a path – is predicated on mutual reciprocity: releasing my poems into the world so that others may read them. Lately, I’ve been caught in the traditional-self publishing dilemma. After working this spring with my wise and thoughtful editor-essayist-poet Jenna Butler, my manuscript sits with three traditional presses whose protocols are precise on prior publications. Hence why I seldom post my own work here or on social media. Recently, I’ve initiated conversations with self-published writers, and with a press who assists, for a fee, writers to publish their own works.

I feel poised on the edge of a “great waterfall.” Vulnerable. Uncertain. But to imagine flowing with, and having my words be read, or heard by others, our eyes and ears becoming “shaped like our hearts,” brings me deep joy. Maybe the nudge to push me over.

Much love and kindest regards, dear friends.