
Are there spaces inside your body that hold onto old tales?
Words fall stagnate,
pebbles tossed to the way side,
skipped across puddles,
as you change,
effortlessly it seems
for days pass into days
and, one afternoon
the wintry light angles across the room
exposing little pieces of dust
like the stuff in your mind
during writer’s block
it’s as if the dust collected into bricks
golden and heavy
weighing down your thoughts,
as you try
to throw them away
with new stories,
new songs
singing into your ears,
lyrics floating up inside your dusty brain,
cleansing the soul
for it’s not just there that you live,
for it’s not just in the neurons,
but in the touches
of fingers,
of toes,
of laughter
lingering in the soft light of winter
where you decide
to get up,
and let go of the stories
that held you back.
~Jessie Zanita
Poet’s Note:
Well, hello, there!
Where the hell have you been?
Um, I got lost.
So what does a writer do? Write free-flow poetry.
Write a new story.
As this old year fades into dust, what is the story that you’ll write in the upcoming year?
Happy New Year to all of you!
~ Jessie
Jessie Zanita © 2018