It’s when we dare to express ourselves from our own inner deepest feeling, we become true. Where did my poetry go? Why can I not express myself freely, purely, personally from the heart any longer?
Maybe only another professional writer would be able to understand the hesitancy when others interfer, misinterpret, copy, mock and wish it would be about them. So, we write what is appropriate, airy and polite. Keeping the truth to ourselves instead of praising the splendor we see around us. Is that what God gifted me with? To not share my gift?
I let the words dance themselves onto the page. The feeling travels through my body, until I let it become in my heart. A yearning to be enveloped. To be held the right way.
I am being touched in spirit, my sensuality coming alive with his gentle strokes alongside my arm, grabbing my waist. Just the way I like it. Connected for a fleeting moment. Others intrude. But we find each other again.
I hope I can live my poetry more.