Unfinished Woman
I am
by definition
an unfinished woman
a fragmented heart
an uneven dilemma
follow here
the perilous route
of a prosy poetess
defined only by work
on a theory of love
& when I perish
when the earth moves
they will discover my
bones embedded deep
within the rocky below
bones in the shape
of curious decrees
sentences stretching
for long distances
dispatching big words
transmitting veracities
indecipherable to the
average naked eye
I am
by definition
an unfinished woman
a tortured daughter
an uncompromised lover
follow here
my resolute advice
my unrivaled practice
write your failures
brilliantly
**
So yesterday I worried I was facing writer’s block. As soon as I completed my blog and shared it,
I wrote a small chunk of dialogue for ‘Mute’.
Maybe saying it out loud helps? I
was grateful for the tiny flash and to have a small conversation set up the
next stage of the story. I also learned a
few new things about my current characters I didn’t know before, that was exciting. I employed the correct grammar too so let’s
hope I make the grade.
I wrote the above poem yesterday. It made me cry as I scribbled. It came from a deep corner of my heart from
the places I am most pure, about the pieces of me that so few know or who
couldn’t be bothered to see.
I’m still out of sorts today but it could be the gloomy
fog and rain outside and the fact that so many of my people are in current
states of disarray and I worry about them.
My wishes for them are peaceful breathing and optimal outcomes.
Is it Friday yet?
Wild wild horses, we’ll ride them someday …
In propinquity,
Nic
