Saturday, December 30, 2017


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
It stagnates
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. 

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