“Why I Write”

putting pen to paper
fingers to keys
bares (bears) my heart and soul
to any who care to read
it purges the mental and emotional
garbage I’ve fed on
relieving that nauseated feeling in my brain
I write to find my path
through the maze of my own tangles
to illuminate reality
I write to pull myself out of pits
and ravines I’ve trod in my own psyche
building ladders and stairways
to a more balanced place

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“A Girl Named Missing”

I once knew a girl named Missing.
Her voice was solemn
melancholy, like a funeral dirge
or the echoing moans of massive whales
careening languidly through the vast sea.

Missing was quiet
usually.

Sometimes though
when Missing was feeling particularly strong
her voice became a wailing
a siren’s screech
piercing the day, disturbing the peace.

Missing spent her time
coiled into shadowed corners
trying to escape the brilliant day.
She didn’t like to reveal herself to many.

She simply wrapped her arms around herself
rocking slowly
restlessly seeking solace
in her own embrace.


Huh. Been a while since I’ve written. I guess I’ve been distracted by knitting, and by an improving but still chaotic personal llife, and by working 40-hour weeks, usually over 6 days.