‘i’ is the letter
that frequently
clouds my thoughts
why? “i” tend to ask myself
am “i” so important after all? 
why is it that every time
“i” sit and write a poem
it comes along
and steals the universality
of my experience
in subtle ways
like a parasite
feeding on my blood
the “i” has to be replaced
with a more general
more unanimous
and impersonal word
that can speak to every heart
inspire every soul
to be their very best
allowing them
through the looking glass
without compelling them
to see who or why
and just letting them
to experience
the trauma
or the joy
of being a poet.