weathered key stroke of a writer
staring at the keys like
they actually spoke.
and on a regular, you half-thought
you may have caught yourself
listening for it.
that thing they talk about but
you're not sure if it's a first or second
hand understanding you have.
and you mutter to yourself about it
those keys push back like they're fighting you
like they have more to say than anything you could
ever dream up,
and that's probably all too true.
that makes you clam up faster
than anything else and that little
feeling mocks its way up your throat.
holds your heart back, your fingers;
piling up like the tower of Babel
and just as linguistically confusing.
doubting anyone will ever catch your
that's another word you don't quite understand
but don't feel confident enough to search and define
like a search engine was actually in on your
if only you realized that mirror was reflective
and all that talent you saw staring back
was actually your very own
and you didn't run when it smiled at you.
if you would only just reach out and touch the surface of that
crisp glass and let it waken you.
push you back upward
and you would see all these letters,
words that have been written
were none other than your own.
I haven't used this space for my poetry lately and I felt the desire to thrown a bit in here today.
I sometimes forget that as a mom I have things I love as an individual that extend outside the reach of
parenthood...and are separate altogether. I will always love to write. Oh, how easy it is to set aside though,
for more pressing things, like being a momma...more important, pressing needs for sure...but every now and again I will go back to it, and visit with it like an old friend....and hopefully we will see a little more of each other in the future...and I can share a little more of it here.
What is something you love to do...that you feel you have carried with you throughout all sorts of changes in your life?
Happy Tuesday to you all!