Saturday, December 5, 2015

Write.  Write.  Write.  Write.
A mantra over and over
An anxiety slows creeps into my skin.
Like tiny bug, trying  to burrow in.
When the itch falls away
the staccato chant begins.

Write,  Write.  Write. Just write.
You'd think I'd listen.
It's just hard to allow the fingers
to match what the soul is telling.
I hold off hoping the hymn will fade.
Cover it up with life's white noises.

write.  Write.  WRITE! WRITE!!
It never seems to go away
The unending refrain.
It slowly seeps into the marrow
A reminder of what I have done
and what I am meant to do.


Life doesn't seem fair  and I am a witness. "I don't believe in God" she says And I have nothing to refute it. I see...