Thursday, 8 December 2011
Waiting on my Muse makes me
I have only these few moments,
A brief window
Between coffee waking my senses
and baby’s voice piercing the silence
to get these words out.
Some days (today)
the words are stubborn,
holding back and being coy
So I try patience
coaxing them out with inspiration
Finding favorite writers and soaking up their art
Hoping it will animate my own
so it can come out of hiding, awake
ready to inspire another, or at least
But now the tall one is next to me, whispering to herself
while she cuts out a project and waits for me to finish
And I hear the baby’s muffled jabbering through two closed doors
and I glance at the clock again, inhale deep and know —
It has to be now.
So I will my resisting fingers to start
get something down in black and white.
The words creak, stiff and whining, and
I give them grace.
They might not change the world today,
garner me accolades or
earn me followers
(all this measurement)
But they may yet
give life to something more.
there is no measure
of success or failure, just