i've forgotten how to write / it seems.
i pick up that familiar guitar in my hands,
expecting to say something of importance, something in my heart.
but it's been eighteen years
and the dam that was there when i was born
is still there now.
i approached it as Jericho, but seven days did nothing.
seven years have passed, and still nothing.
i have a journal with small poems
that just make my heart sick (perhaps an overstatement) when i read them
because i could never say it / quite right.
no, wait --
s t o p.
could you stop protesting and just LISTEN for a moment?
i am tired of words right now,
tired of sound.
tired of people telling me how / when / possibilities.
just listen.
i drove in the desert heat to a picnic table in
the middle of nowhere,
and sweat on a bench eating blackberries and
watched the clouds dance and sway quietly along
their bright blue stage.
i had meant to pray.
to abide in the presence of my Savior, pouring out my heart.
maybe to listen and hear a word from Him / (trying not to be a hypocrite).
but the sun just covered everything it could,
and i was hot, and the wind was hot,
and there is no good word to describe it all except hot hot hot.
i've forgotten how to write, after all.
but a man walked with his daughter,
laughing and calling after Maddie. both of them
bore weapons against the heat (just squirt guns and hope).
i grinned at the trees away from them, trying
not to spill the secret that i was listening.
i think he knew.
i don't think he cared.
i guess you don't need to know how to write
to be spoken to.
/x
hey babes. graduated high school. sending my school laptop back to the school so i'm not going to be able to post again until i buy a new one. but that's not new news. i mean, it takes me a couple of months to post these days anyway.
thanks for always coming back, even when i am a poop and don't reply to the comments. i see 'em and love 'em.
