All the poems you want to write

The following piece began as a Substack Note passed to another writer in response to exactly what, I can no longer remember. I have a dim recollection that the subject may have involved journaling, but I could be wrong.

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All the poems 
you want to write
are out there, 
hidden from your sight.

The matter is always 
a question of choice:

Will they choose you 
to be their voice?

And if they do 
what will you give 
to make them sing, 
to make them live?

When they speak of loss, 
will you be their tears?

In the terror of night, 
will you be their fears?

Will you soothe and calm 
them, relieve their dread 
or will you be the monster 
under their bed?

Is yours the voice of tenderness?
Is yours the voice of love?
Can you speak with the holy fire 
of God on high above?

Will it be your bones that tremble 
with their agony and pain?

And will you be the shelter 
that keeps them from the rain?