Member-only story
a poem
Every time I’ve sat down to write in over a month-I’ve had no words.
Phrases and prose that used to wake me up out of my sleep,
Romping in my dreams, jostling my eyes awake, like a toddler
Begging to get up before the morning light, have hidden.
Suddenly shy, having to be coaxed and prodded.
Anxiously, peaking around the corner-
Checking for safety before they come.
Not ready to say what needs to be said.
Not ready for the rush of tears pressed up behind them.
To release the dam of pretense and appearances
And let it all flow.
I’m not ready and neither are my words.
They’re gone again.
Until they nudge me awake in the night again.
This is all I’ve got.
