Blank – like a canvas.
I write, I erase, I type, I delete.
A thousand thoughts and no words at all.
Blank – like a canvas.
A restlessness, few feelings too many.
This is where it all began.
Outlet through words, a mind’s escape, my mind.
A dream of today, born many yesterdays ago.
A realization, a belonging, a craving.
Some call it passion and intensity, some call it crazy,
I, I know it is purpose.
A land of stories, is now a life of stories.
A girl no more, it’s become a woman’s prerogative.
Words, they’ve always held a special place,
A safe haven giving rise to a new entity.
If all went dark, and there was nothing left to see,
I would know I have my truth, my words are my identity.
If all were lost, unclear and hazy,
I would know I have my words, my clarity.
If one day I could think no more,
I would know I have my words, my anchor to my world.
If I was left abandoned and woefully rue
I would know I have my words to carry me through.
Calling, it comes every once in a while.
Are you paying attention? Hearing?
Because once you listen to it, there is no going back.
I began my journey writing poetry and prose as a medium, an outlet for my thoughts and emotions. I NEVER let anyone read these, it would make me feel too exposed. Today, being in a melancholic mood and still continuing on the journey of vulnerability, I thought I would attempt to blog a version of it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing this. There is something deeply therapeutic and emotional in my relationship with words. If all else disappeared, I would take comfort in knowing I have words to turn to, others’ and mine, our very own connection. I wish that you find yours too.
~ NT
Awesome post. Great job 👍👏🏻