Writing in this book,
finding my way in the dark,
seeking, feeling, stretching hands,
straining eyes to see inside the cave
that is my mind these days.

There is a darkness there,
a gloom,
a tomb,
and a womb
all at once.

It’s where I die but feel alive;
or live but feel like I’m dying.

This is the place where I've buried babies,
proclaimed eternal love,
remembered the playground,
recalling the push and shove.

In this space, I clear my head;
I clean my mind,
I think, ponder, and proclaim.
In this place, I stay sane.

This is the place that I’m found,
the place where my mind is sound,
where my love is strong,
where I’m write, right?
And, it’s okay to be wrong.

In this notebook,
I pay what my quiet costs;
in this notebook,
with it’s empty pages,
I find what I've never lost.

*
-JB Claywell
©P&ZPublications;
2015