forgotten how to write

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.