I read that we all have
an inner creativity
begging for release.

Begging for the light of day,
with us, even when ignored.
Within us, always,
for however long it’s ignored.

Then, if we embrace it,
however clumsily…
lo and behold!
It brings us joy.

You know how it is
when your brain gets busy?
And it’s feeding you a loop,
a story that needs breaking.
Today my story’s on high rotation
and I am questioning the panic-dialogue.

Are my instincts really real, anymore?
Can calm rationality win out here
or is it, simply, a matter of the heart.

I’d do anything
For you, dear, anything
Yes I’d do anything for you…

Would I forget my dreams?
Anything.

Beautiful girl—
curved cheek,
laboured breath,
hot skin,
flushed face,
closed eyes,
rhythmic breathing.
Tucked in close.
Get better soon
my love.

Hidden away
in plain sight,
in my skin
and in this light

Hidden away,
but I see
what is here
inside of me.

Do you?

Here we go
rollercoaster,
when I thought you were steady.
Steady now, really steady.

You panicked me, you know.
Instant, reflexive,
self blame.
Steady up, steady.

Our children need you
and they need me more
when you’re gone.
Steady, I’ll be steady.

I measure my progress:
receive your news; panic.
Process and move forward.
Steady, actually steady.

Here I stand
or lie
or sleep.

All the work to get here,
and the feelings feel
embarrassing,
self indulgent.
I want to hide them,
yet they keep returning.

I’ve worked through an ex.
I’ve sorted the mortgage.
Therapy for the trauma
(The trauma! Ridiculous!)
am out the other side…
still navel gazing.

About the rest of it.
The choices
the job
the restlessness.
Likeability, life purpose.

And just now,  
you’ve made me laugh
and laugh and laugh.
Thank you.