The Struggle to Write

I answered all your questions.
I listened to your lies.
I finally know I’m free to go.
I’ve said all my goodbyes.

I wrote this sometime last month. It’s just one of those fragments that gets stuck in my head until I write it down. I thought I might be able to develop it into something more, so I left it to sit and think about itself until I worked my way back to it. I assumed that I’d have plenty other things to work on, things that would pour out easily now that I had pulled that particular cork and set it aside. Let the ideas flow like fine wine!

Right.

Instead, I found myself writing another verse.

I’m ready for this journey.
I’ll take each day in stride.
I’ll never look for what you took.
My soul is satisfied.

But my soul wasn’t satisfied. I hadn’t written that line. I had written something else and deleted it. And tried again. And again. I couldn’t finish the rhyme, I was so bothered by the rhythm. Whatever it was I loved about the first verse (cute little jingle), I started to hate as it expanded. I didn’t want a second verse, but here I was now, stuck with this job, needing to work on what I had, because I wasn’t getting anything else.

At this point, I had no idea what I was writing about. I was trying to fit words into an established rhythm and rhyme pattern that simultaneously felt complete and unfinished. I tried to ignore the whole mess. I started other fragments of other poems far worse. Those I deleted. I tried to muse trivially about the books I’m reading. That didn’t get me very far either. I felt taunted by this little piece of poem that refused to die.

You don’t control my future.
You can’t prevent my now.
Our past is done. Tell everyone!

Great. Now what?

Love always wins somehow?

I finally found my how?

I’m here to buy a cow?

The phone rang, so I answered it, grateful for the interruption. My sister was checking in. We chatted for a while; she updated me on my aunts and brother (everyone’s fine). We decided it was a good day for a ride. I had some clothes and food to drop off at my daughter’s house an hour away. Perfect. I closed my laptop, leaving this file open for when I got home. That way I could tell myself I wasn’t really giving up again. I was taking an extended coffee break. I was coming back.

So here I am. I don’t usually write and post after dark, but I made myself a promise of sorts. I left my words dangling, my curser blinking. I have to finish this piece so it lets go of me. I want to move on. I don’t have to like what I’ve written today. I just have to write. Maybe someday it will tell me its name and what it’s really about.

Death takes the final bow.

UNTITLED

I answered all your questions.
I listened to your lies.
I finally know I’m free to go.
I’ve said all my goodbyes.

I’m ready for this journey.
I’ll take each day in stride.
I’ll never look for what you took.
My soul is satisfied.

You don’t control my future.
You can’t prevent my now.
Our past is done. Tell everyone!
Death takes the final bow.

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