A Hungry Spark

It’s 3am, her eyes are weary

and to the paper and pen her fingers cling.

Under her blanket, safe in the shadows,

a girl of 13, already hole ridden by self-doubt

becomes more by the power of words.

Filled with angst and optimism common of her age,

it is on the page, illuminated by the glow of a flash light–

a Wordsmith is born.

 

Even with her questionable levels of self-esteem

she can see her dream is no dream.

Her pen dances on the paper evidenced in the meticulous trail of ink.

It is in this moment, she reads and she sees.

She sees her reflection more real than any mirror ever will.

She ignites…becomes too bright for a blanket to hide her light-

casting it under the door. She could be caught any moment.

She’s already been warned…

But, as her poetry flows all she knows

Is her purpose– to compose.

She has acknowledged her spark at only 13.

 

I wish I could tell you she always fed the fire

but I would be a bold-faced liar.

26 years later, it hasn’t been snuffed out.

Though the lies told by people and so many mirrors

stole the air that fed that flame.

Yet, still that flame has always remained. It is still there illuminating her dream.

It is up to her to decide how to circulate the air she breathes

— and what reality she wants to feed…

The act of loving performed sitting, standing, or dancing…

On this Valentine’s, I choose to see how blessed I am to have so many people in my life to love and be loved by.

A Valentine's message to the single parent.

A Valentine’s message to the single parent.

I also reflect on the great loves I have been honored to witness, such as the one shared between my parents. Even though my mom passed away last June, she was and always will be my dad’s dancing partner.

 

Still dancing...

Still dancing…

Remember your relationship status does not have to determine the love in your life—celebrate the love in your life today, regardless of its source ♥

Just another verbally verbose whine…

I feel like I’m battling myself– these darned up and down emotions and feelings of dissatisfaction.  Maybe some feelings are meant to be kept inside– I hate the fact by writing about my own unhappiness that I could possibly pass on that burden to others in my life… not exactly what I want–

And honestly, my complaints with my life are truly my own– and my own doing or in need of my un-doing. I think I put too much on certain life successes to bring me a certain level of happiness. Of course, life has shown me over and over that happiness comes from the self– within– not from what happens to us or from what we have. Though, sometimes, it just plain hard to accept that little nugget of wisdom.

The truth is, today, right now, I am not happy with my life. I want my time to be better spent and I want to find more enjoyment in the time I’m spending. The sad thing is that I just don’t know exactly what it is that I want to do– or what exactly is missing from it causing this relentless restless striking me from time to time.

One thing missing from my life are moments of inspiration– moments that cause me to pause and create. I haven’t had enough of those lately.  Maybe the easiest way to get more of those back in my path is to return to the path that brought them to my way. Poetry– oh even the word itself instantly brings about a sudden life spark– sharp, bright, and stinging– a reminder I’m alive. I don’t know what it is about wrting poetry that does that to me— there is something extraordinary in creating experience– an experience of words–