Taking no prisoners. Including herself.

Here at home. I must not be a writer, because a writer would take more care.

Here at home, writing. In the same room I learned fear. In the same room I first cried. In the same room I wrote empty promises. In the same room I, stories, born.

I love this room. It is full of quiet knowing and gratitude, both then and now, for the way things are. For the way all is. For for. I love this room.

I must not be a writer. Because the deeper I sink the less I want to say.

I must not be a writer. A writer writes all day.

I just sit, and words.


Leave a Reply