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Every writer I know has trouble writing.  — Joseph Heller

i missed tuesday. well, i lived it, but i didn’t write. i missed another day. that happens a lot..since having kids. i get lost in the day to day and my writing gets pushed aside. i can’t let that happen any longer.

it’s after midnight. i’m listening to the rain. feeling melancholy. thinking about so many things that i can’t fit into a day. so many things on my to do list that roll over into another day, making that list longer.

currently i’m struggling with myself. i am reading over old poems with the notion to send some out for publication. but in reading them a great deal of emotion is being stirred up. causing, i don’t want to call it a writer’s block, no, i’ll just call it resistance.

so here is one that i have been wrestling with…

Left

Left
quickly and without warning
we become incomplete.
We vest ourselves in things
collected, dusty on shelves.
Bound to moments and items,
lifetimes of unappreciated loss —
some oddly shaped keys,
an earring that silently slipped away,
the wallet that took a piece of your life,
a well-worn leather glove forgotten…

We lose things everyday,
or they leave us, wondering,
longing for their return.
As I long for summer’s humid embrace
or your warm breath on my neck. Naked,
November’s wind, bitter and unforgiving,
my hand exposed as I stand
ambushed by the weather and your decision
I am now the unpaired glove,
dejected, alone
left.
©L. Conquet

“What is it about us human beings that we can’t let go of lost things?”
~ Leslie Marmon Silko, from The Turquoise Ledge

(via poietes)

Tell me your thoughts about lost things, lost loves, lost time, lost days, loss…

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