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