Life is not a straight line. It's a downpour of gifts, please – hold out your hand

lovelovelovelove
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Thank you for being here. I'm so glad you're here.

Friday, September 12, 2014

HOLY FREEDOM


\

In the midst of chopping onions 
and digging unnameable parts 
out of the chicken carcass, before
I'm almost late getting them to soccer practice
I scribble words - words that come from nowhere 
or from some mysterious
somewhere. Words that ask, no - demand 
to be written down

they are here in the shower as I reach dripping 
for my notebook, here
in the wanting kitchen when he 
tells me about his day. Here 
when I should be 
focused on driving 
rather than taking dictation 

I am a drunk driver swerving 
from too many
words, words that tumble
and spill and ask, no - beg
to be heard. 

Thankyouthankyouthankyou
I say to God
or whatever it is
that sends them

I pull over the first chance I get 
so that I don't become one of 
those people who kills
while intoxicated and write dizzily
urgently - I don't care 
that my hands smell like raw chicken, even this 
is a metaphor 
for something. I'm sure. After
they all come out
I exhale
saying out loud to the wind

Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.





*Photo of me in Taos, New Mexico (where my writing journey really began).  Photo taken by Kevin Moul


1 comment :

  1. For all of the times we wish we had inspiration, there are dozens more where it strikes and veers us from our original course.

    <3 to you

    ReplyDelete

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♥ Julia