i feel like i should write. i see a blank page and nothing pressing my heart. ms staley, my high school creative writing teacher used to give us each a line from a poem or prose to stem from...i think i'll find one..i started to use the first poem that comes to me when i think of this...Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver, but felt the same stream of thought bubbling up that I've written so many times before over the years....page at random, please stand by..."I live and move here in my borrowed trappings;" from "Wintering" by Diana Kappel-Smith...
I live and move here in my borrowed trappings
straps cutting from that day long ago, bindings from another moment not as long ago
leave bruises
they are not my own cages i'm stuck in, though i do have my own i slip into from time to time
i take them from others
put that skin on my body, put that heart inside my own ribcage
these burdens of others, some intentionally laid, some i've taken on, however unwillingly
i live within
they shape my days and hours
well. a rocky stab at getting into the habit of writing more. of letting my mind go where it will.
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