Eyes closed,
she leans back in her chair
and sighs.
Nothing inspires her,
her muse in hiding.
Slate pales to gray
beneath curdled skies,
the silence loud inside her head.
And then, sunlight breaks through,
deposits rectangles of gold
across her writing desk.
Little by little, she feels life
starting up again.
She begins to write.
4 comments:
The words don't come easily, especially when we are stressed. But then, everyone is stressed. I am so grateful that April came now, when it did. Yes, at first the words felt like heavy wooden blocks. Now they are chips that fall each day and I am finding a rhythm I lost a while ago. April is the month when things take root and begin to grow. And each day we come to this task, we allow our roots to grow a bit stronger and soon that which we plant will break the surface, bask in the sun, and flourish. Don't give up. Feelings are not facts. They are no more than momentary flashes. Find a few things you can be grateful for, it changes the feelings. And all of this means that not only did I read your poem, I felt it deeply. And am grateful to be with you on this present journey.
Elizabeth
Thanks, Elizabeth! You are an inspiration, every day!
Beautiful imagery, Marianne. Yes, inspiration comes from the smallest things now.
Love,
Pammy
I can so relate, Marianne...so so much.
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