It's time to write my Tuesday post.
Too tired--I'll do it tomorrow.
Tuesday comes.
Check up at the doctor's office--
I begin my villanelle
as I wait--really?
A villanelle in the waiting room--
like I'm going to finish that!
In the afternoon,
the migraine knocks me out.
I am in bed all day.
I can't write.
Minutes left for my Tuesday slice.
I must slice.
Last week on vacation,
I did not slice.
I must slice.
Vacation gave me inspiration.
The waves. The beach. The kids.
Cumberland Island. Driftwood Beach.
Special times with my husband.
Sunrise.
Running off a sandbar
with my niece and laughing
with the reckless abandon of a child.
Tonight my head hurts
as I think about inspiration.
The motions of my fingers
on the keyboard.
No controlling idea--
just a jumbling of thoughts.
Maybe next week
maybe tomorrow
Summer devoid
of routine and the remnants of the migraine
making my brain too tired--
I don't want to write.
And I call myself a writer...
Here is a quote from Henri Nouwen that Luci Shaw shared in her book Breath for Bones. The quote helps me stick with putting words down even when I feel like I'm not "a writer." "Writing is a process in which we discover what lives in us. The writing itself reveals what is alive.."
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