Writ.

Water came close to falling from
Eyes. I blinked and stalled them
Hard. They stayed hidden. Remained
My barely held secret. Didn’t want to
Loose them. Not then. They –
Jewels I wanted to savour.

Write for Life

There was another that
Invited them fall. And
Again caught somewhere mid
Throat. Coughs wouldn’t relieve them
Safe passage. Gravity
Couldn’t work her weak magic.

She peering over glasses,
Wisened, offered “So a writer then?”
Tremors. Words stalled
Near to where my tears
Caught. “Uh, a writer?
Me?”

Artist at Work

Was this a
Statement, an accusation,
A summation? Cracked imaginings
Flashed then held
Fast. The creative in me
Faltered then, laughed.

Stood wobbling, first then
Stoically. Staring ahead.
Afloat. Buoyed by her
Warmth. A barely heard
Whisper of thought.
Am I?

Message to the brave

The artist in me
Danced, 
A little. The smile caused 
Sunlight to blush and 
Came the answer, “Yes.
A writer. Then.”

Resources

Message of Hope Derrick Hodge
Writing to improve Mental Health
Revisionist History Hamlet was wrong

Images
Cover Photo Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash
1st Inlay Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
2nd Inlay Photo by LinkedIn Sales Navigator on Unsplash
3rd Inlay Photo by hannah grace on Unsplash

6 thoughts on “Writ.

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