I went to a poetry meeting a few nights ago and it has sparked the inspiration to keep writing, start writing again, just to get words on paper and reclaim my thoughts.
I like the way that sounds: reclaim my thoughts. Not sure who took them over, but they're not going to keep them. Mwahahaha.
I will be sharing some of what I wrote. I think I want to blog about it to be able to share it with people and to find therapy through that. The poetry gathering was great for that; the founder deals with bipolar disorder and is an activist about awareness for autism. I felt safe enough, with strangers in a Panera restaurant in Texas, to share the following poem that came from a prompt. I was surprised and relieved at the same time.
Introspection. Self-reflection. It is time.
This is the poem that came from the free-writing prompt (with a few line-break changes and added punctuation and a potential title because I'm the author and I do what I want!) :
ERASED (unfinished)
"To plan for the future without having a sense of history is like trying to plant cut flowers" ~David McCullough
so maybe that's why
I can't grow roots: the memories erased
& the plants die right before
they bloom
They say it's self sabotage
but I can't feel the pain
Yet I sit here with
mice and men
laying plans and roads
and maps and goals
but they crumble; they decay
time wipes those memories away
memories that would give
me roots, bring me
strength, bring the sun
How can I believe
the dawn
if I can't remember ever seeing it before? This is the
terror of my dark, the
dark without memory of
the light
