The Return

This post lays between a poem and blog like two pages stuck together in your favorite book.

On the page where your favorite passage rests.

I took a break.

I lost my way in a hazy maze sometime in October- of some year.

I forgot what I enjoyed about writing.

I forgot how to write.

Maybe, I didn’t forget.

Maybe, I was ignoring the desire, the calling, the muse.

I just let myself fall off the wall refusing to let the kings-men help.

I moved around, numb, on my own endless hamster wheel, living a never-ending rut.

Then, suddenly, I find the desire and joy in writing.

I may not write all the time.

I may not be as consistent as I like but I am here, again.

I fall, over and over again and I like my wounds, I tend to them until they have healed.

I discover the urge that excited me was visiting Rip Van Winkle for a much needed slumber.

Maybe, I had nothing to write about and that’s ok.

Push button start, ignition, READY, SET, WRITE.

Copyright © Delia Marrero 2019 All rights reserved.

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