My grey rain

This pulsing throbbing aching heat

Empties all thought except escape

Mind reeling away to hide in the dark-

Protected, cooled, stilled, silent.

Outside, life carries on in noisy uncaring haste,

Running past wilted rosebushes

Anxious to burst on the scene.

Reluctantly, eyes open, reaching for

Yesterday.

Look, listen, learn

This blog is a space for me to find my voice.

You know, I had one in the past. It sounded stronger then- maybe a bit too strong.
Then I fell ill and stopped writing for the joy of it.
Later I learned how to write in a technical way, which strengthened many areas of my writing but withered my voice.

Now I'm trying again, because I'm convinced that my best self can be in the future rather than the past.
It will take time. You are welcome to wait and see.


A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.
~Lou Holtz