Away

I’ve been away a while. More than a year and a half. What have I been doing all this time? Well, not writing or painting, and during this time is when I probably needed to write the most.

I once told myself that writing was going to save my life, so here I am. This post is a bookmark of sorts…where I left off…ready to begin the rest. I’ll start by revisiting what I was writing almost two years ago to see who that person was. To see what, if anything, my past self was trying to tell me that perhaps I wasn’t ready to hear.

If you are a writer, a poet, a musician, a creator…keep going. Be yourself. Don’t give up.

Processing

Some days the words are slow to form,
and my mind is as empty as the lines
on the waiting pages. Hours pass
before I notice the soft tapping of sleet
against the window, reminding me
of the time I ran across the sidewalk
at grandma’s house, and my foot slipped
on the ice. I hovered parallel to the ground
before crashing hard upon my back.
For a moment I could not catch my breath,
and I blinked in wonder when the stars
watched me gasp for the freezing air.