fire breathing words

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That feeling you get when your first story starts forming in your head. In your heart. In your body.

The words stream across your mind like a blurry old silent black & white film reel when you close your eyes. You feel sounds become words. Dissociated at first. No order. Just whizzing by like the shots of machine gun fire. Random words working hard to string together and form into cohesive thoughts.

Letters flowing through your veins. Mixing with your oxygen your blood your plasma your marrow your tears your saliva. Picking up tissue and cells along the way. Pieces of you. Ripping them away from you.

Colliding. Combining. Dividing. Multiplying.

Words that bring up feelings that bring up more words. More feelings.

Memories. Whispers. Screams. Tears. Truths.

Colliding. Combining. Dividing. Multiplying.

Senseless at first. Growing bolder and stronger and louder. Taking on a life of their own. Escaping your body through your breath your pores your sweat. Oozing.

Breathing words like breathing fire. Heat and flames. Igniting. Searing.

Swirling. Breathing. Multiplying. Screaming. Burning. Fighting.

Forcing their way to the page. Fighting for their life. For their chance to tell their story.

connection, authenticity, vulnerability…oh my!

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I am a writer who lost my voice. What’s a writer with no voice? A tortured soul. An affliction. Like a swimmer who has lost a lung. A pianist who’s lost his hands. Like a singer whose vocal chords have been severed.

The craft was lost. The lifeline cut. The music silenced.

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surrendering to grief

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Today I am a failure

I’m failing at being a wife
I’m failing at being a mother
I’m failing at being a friend and a lover
I’m failing at saying what I want
I’m failing at asking for what I need
I’m failing at grieving
I’m failing at mourning

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mirage

Reflections-3

You came to me last night
I saw you there
I felt your warmth
Only I didn’t

I breathed in your familiar scent
I held your smooth delicate hand
I caressed your porcelain soft cheek
Only I didn’t

I smiled into your sparkling eyes
I heard you breathe out my name, the way a mother does
I breathed in the sound of the rasp in your voice
Only I didn’t

Only I didn’t
I remembered you were dead
You were there when I awoke
Only you weren’t