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, or at least that is my plan), I suddenly felt a poem coming. As I started writing, I was surprised to find that it was a positive poem. That never 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, my first positive poem in a long time 🦋
