Writing Is...

i haz a write  2 B hurd

Yesterday I was browsing blogs I've neglected to visit for a long time and saw mention of a meme on West of Mars in which one is to fill in the blank: Writing is like ______

Well that stuck with me over the next several hours as I worked at the sorting and packing of my crochet projects for Sunday's trip. Several possible answers came to me as I mulled and mused. I was drawn to listing them and soon I was writing a poem. The first one in ages. I can't even remember the last one.

Apparently in the space between reading the blog post and starting to write I had lost the word 'like'. After returning to Susan Helene's blog for the link I noticed that and went back to my poem to insert 'like' before each verb int he first line of each verse but it changed too much in several cases--the rhythm, the meaning, the immediacy. So I left it as I wrote it.

Writing Is

Writing is dreaming,

taking you away to other

where, giving glimpses into

that expanding vastness that

is your spirit.

Writing is grieving

for the lost ones, the lost dreams

giving substance to memories,

recovering that sense of

your life's meaning

Writing is weaving

words of golden wisdom from

all your pain and joy to find

hope, like a nova, in the

palm of your hand

Writing is dancing

on fluffy dandelions

spreading their seeds among weeds

whose proliferate leaves ooze

a healing balm

Writing is pitting

your own self against your self

daring to face the challenge

of giving all that you are

without reserve

Writing is looking

deep within the beating heart

of your dankest self loathing,

dissipating its fog with

reason's bright light

Writing is seeking

a knowing of the other

and a quest to be known

by someone acknowledging

you as worthy

Writing is exalting

in the heat of creative

passion that brings forth out of

nothing but thought and yearning

a new being

Writing is journeying

far from the familiar

greeting yourself in the eye

of the raging storm that is

your own desire

Writing is questing

with the heart of a hero

for the prize in the depths of

the pulsing shadows guarded

by fierce dragons

Writing is yearning

for a world of wonders

of mystery, of power, of awe,

which is not to be had lest

we dare chase it

Writing is streaming

the mind of the universe

bringing the brilliant spinning

galaxies circling in a

baroque gavotte

________________________

Now back to the packing. Though not for long as I've had two hours of sleep since Tuesday afternoon. I'm determined to avoid leaving her Sunday morning having already been awake over 24 hours as is my habit. I can't afford to as my sister is leaving town on Monday morning which puts me on duty with Mom only twelve or so hours after I arrive.