I’m still writing about historical subjects, but blogging about them has taken a back seat to…life.  

This isn’t an excuse, just a fact that is inescapable.

I made a self-promise that I would be more disciplined, and write monthly to get back in the game.

Yet I’m not ready to put history to paper today.  Instead, I wrote a non-history something.  And rather than put it somewhere else (like the depths of my recycle bin) I’m publishing it on my blog.

A poem if you will (or won’t).  A loose consciousness of the will to write.

On writing after the absence of one year:

Being in a delusional amount of pain

The distance of thought and the wanting it to be so good

Streams of tension in my neck cry out for relief

The bang of the shutter so infrequent that I forget it will bang

It is quiet but there are sounds all around me

I am alone but not lonely

The ball of fuzz in the back of my mind

The weight of the task on each eyelid

Indecision numbs my legs

Constrictions in my chest are more the bra than fear

But the fear is there

Conscious of my task now I’m pushing it to be good

Trying to be witty

Wanting it to be good

This is what I hate

And what I love about writing
Love it or don’t.  I wrote.

🙂 Amy