You guys. I totally dropped the ball on writing. I failed at my haiku a day which isn’t even that hard, and then I skated through poetry month like it wasn’t even happening. Who am I?! How dare I!?
The good news is, it’s not like I’ve been over here idling. Since my last post I have run a half marathon and various other races. I have brought on a new dog to our refuge. I have gotten married. I have lost a loved one (my grandpa died).
So, there’s been plenty to distract me from the world of WordPress. Not like you noticed, though 😉 I am very much aware that most of what I write goes into the void, unread. It’s cool. We are supposed to write for ourselves, that’s what makes our writing authentic. Once you start writing for an audience, you start to feel like you have to censor and edit yourself.
Anyway, I just came by with an intention of writing a post about body image but instead I’m just gonna leave it like this. Life is life. It’s busy. It’s great. We can’t always be running to our blogs with an update, and that’s okay.
We think we have everything we need in place
to stay safe and dry and warm
when facing days of rain.
We talk about rainy day funds,
and unexpected bumps in the road
and emergency preparedness
but when the tide turns,
and the skies open,
and lightning strikes out of what was previously a sunny sky…
the umbrella is missing,
the galoshes don’t fit,
the fund is empty,
and the plan fails.
And when we dry off,
and the sun returns,
what doesn’t drown us today, does it make us stronger?
or will it just drown us tomorrow instead?
M is for Monday,
2:00 and already burnt out.
3 day weekends please.
It’s not writer´s block.
It´s having too much to say,
but not knowing how.
I told myself I would
only eat one serving of
the easter candy
but here I am with
the whole bag in my lap and
now I´m too far gone.
The cat is meowing
for me to open a can
of food she won’t eat.
Sometimes I’m afraid that the fight in me is gone.
Like the spark that made me me was suddenly blown out
one night while I was sleeping with the fan on high,
and accidentally left my mouth open.
Like the passion I used to have has been replaced
by a scream that crawls up my spine like a thousand spiders
and comes out like a sigh.
Whatever it was wasn’t worth the energy.
I feel like a candle lit too long,
but like one of those candles where the wax melts inwards
while reserving its shape and height –
hot, liquid insides.
Like the words I have at the ready to fight for my cause,
to educate the masses, to correct injustices
are not enough. Like I’m tired of being a whisper
in a crowd of people who are wearing ear plugs.