Another empty, blank page
Of untouched white paper
Stares back at me,
Why is it so hard some days, lately
To put events and feelings
Into words?
Why have my words
Failed and abandoned me,
Left me to stand alone
In this windy, cold storm?
The words that flow
From me my mind to the ink pen
Gave me the sense of direction
That I never had,
Things that were a blurry,
Confusing mess inside my heart
Were lifted of its confusing fog.
And I was able
To make a sense of
What hands were
Pushing my head under the water
As I tried to grasp them away
To get
A breath
Of air.
