The walls I hit my head against are the ones inside my head.
So the other night, as I hit yet another proverbial wall, I reached for one of my many journals and started writing. I have a number of journals stashed in various places so I can always grab one and write, though if anyone tried to read any one of them they would be totally confused because I almost never date what I write and the stream of consciousness that ends up on those pages would be confusing enough if it was in chronological order, let along scribbled all over the place. But I digress.
As I was writing out all the negative shit (my journals are the resting places of all the darkness), I suddenly felt a poem coming. As I started writing, I was surprised to find that it was a positive poem. That never usually happens, not spontaneously. If I want to create a positive message, I have to plan it and build it - it takes effort. The stuff that pours out of me is almost exclusively pouring out of the darkness. So I wrote, furiously and with great anticipation.
I had finished it when my 16 year old happened to walk in. I pounced on the opportunity and asked him if he would like to hear it. He stood there, deadpan, awkward, silent, as I read it aloud. He listened patiently, waited a beat, then asked, cautiously, "so... that's it?"
"Yep" I said, feeling significantly less excited at this point, "what did you think?"
"Yeah.... uh.... okay" he managed as he slinked out the door. I started critiquing it aloud but to myself because he had already left the room at this point. Then I realised that, like so many other poems of mine, they needed to come out. Where and how they landed was less important.
So here it is 🦋
Hozzászólások