I haven’t written for a long while. I also ha
ve issues when it comes to privacy protection. Most probably, it’s all in my head, but I feel unwell when plenty of people see what I do.
I stopped writing for another reason, of course. Privacy issues can be easily resolved when you use pen and paper. I simply stopped writing because I’m not immortal any longer. I lost my edge and the meaning of things I had in store to tell readers. My opinions don’t matter to myself even, let alone anybody else.
Personally, I was diagnosed with something I’d rather not talk about. My struggle moved to that line.
Having said all this, I don’t feel better and I don’t feel safer. Here are two small and rather badly written poems that made me feel I am about to enter poetry once more. After writing them, though, I hardly wrote one more. This is not the output I was used to. Therefore, I don’t consider it a come back to writing. I’m really sorry for that. Writing was one of my ways out. My resources are depleting.
#01
The yellow stones of the facade across
Belie me of their ancientness,
Remind me of the cozy books
and kindly teachers.
Behind them – office sternness,
extroverts ruling,
competition
and cold.
#02
Three years after Brutal Minds
I get the courage to wake up,
start the journey back to myself,
and hope.
© soulmary, 2017
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