Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Pulled by an invisible undertow

How can I keep writing,

keep exploring the world

with my pen?


How can I keep the process going

with joy, with excitement, with

hope for the discoveries to come,

even when the unknown--

the not knowing what comes next--

feels overwhelming?


What keeps drawing me back 

to the page every morning,

even when my head feels empty,

my brain blank? 


Why do I sit at my desk

even when thought--when thinking--

feels like a twisted rubber-band

that's been tied into knots?


Why don't I stop, 

put down my pen,

and close my journal

when I feel the tension building

in my shoulders and neck?


But, no, even then 

I still come to the page,

pen in hand,

pulled by some

invisible undertow,

and write.


I write just to see,

perhaps,

what words 

will come today.


I write just to see

what wisdom,

if any,

I will find

inside myself

to inspire my pen

to keep writing.