Dammed if she didn’t

Daily Life, Nature, Poetry, Writing

Slowly building mute frustration:

Will it ever flow again?

Sometimes words come swift and giddy;

Sometimes no ink in my pen.

 

Hours that turn to days, unanswered

Questions from my twitching hands.

Over time, wild space reserved for

Writing falls to life’s demands.

 

Nestled in warm breeze and scratchy

Grass, I sit and feel the page.

Now, on mud-cracked basin, flows a

Stream released from my mind’s cage.

 

Like the fractious cry that soars from

Tiny lungs first tasting air,

Words, cascading, flood me with

Relief from hope’s expectant stare.

Published by ThinkingInk

I write because it makes things better. I love singing, dancing, reading and listening to people. I believe it’s ok to feel however you actually feel and that the word ‘should’ should be banned. I am aware of the irony in that sentence. I have an incredibly soft, black-and-white cat called Elwood, who loves yoghurt and ham. I have struggled a lot with depression, anxiety and OCD. I have had some brilliant therapy and some that was less good, but I firmly believe in therapy. I have two children, who are both wonderful and maddening (aren’t they all?) and now I’m studying again. When I feel rubbish, writing helps me find my way out of the maze, channelling my feelings and centering me again. I’ll keep writing because it’s good for me but if it interests other people too, then that’s really great. I believe that self-compassion is at the root of wellbeing and that when we are kind to ourselves, we are kinder to others too. I believe that the phrase: ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me’ is the most unhelpful pack of lies we could possibly tell ourselves. Words can hurt, and they do, but they can also heal. Words are extremely powerful.

Published