I see myself as a body of water.
Some days, it feels like
The steady flow of possibility
is coursing through my frame.
Like I am a conduit for creation.
Easy, steady, I make what I see.
Some days, the water is too calm
Needs to be shaken up.
If I walk in circles in my mind,
Perhaps I can make a whirlpool
to unstick the notion that I am worthy.
Some days, it is like a tempest inside
And I can do is stay along for the ride
Heart racing, heavy breath
Emotions tumultuous, they toss and turn
So quickly, I can barely make sense of them.
There is a sudden calm.
The storm has passed.
The words to articulate
what has just transpired
come slowly during recovery
when they are ready.
Like bubbles reaching for the surface
A reminder that there is still life below
I collect them, put them in a neat package
And share, baring my soul for all to see
I catch my breath and dive back in.
Once again, I am back to being
at the mercy of the muse
Creating with my hands
something that is both mine
And not of this world.
I am on her time, I must be ready.
There are worse ways to be.