I have had this blog site kicking around for a few years but I've never really utilized it. Lately, though, I have been writing more and more and I'm hoping this will be a good platform for sharing my work (mostly poetry, with a smattering of prose).
I've always had a knack for writing but it was a chore. It was hard work and I wasn't up for the challenge. But things have changed over the last couple of months as I've discovered what an outlet it is to write down my thoughts. If you know me in person, you know that I am not a talker. I often struggle with finding the right words. Not so with writing. This is why I tend to avoid phone calls and use text messages or email instead. Writing is my comfort zone. I'm coherent and can plan what I need to say ahead of time instead of stuttering and stalling with awkward pauses and blank stares.
Over the past year, I have struggled with depression. I've had so many ups and downs with this mental illness and one of my main outlets now is writing. How am I doing at this moment? I'm confident and happy. This could change tomorrow. The worst part is not knowing when I will slide back into it. It gets tough this time of year. My other outlet is running, and with the busyness of the holidays I have been slacking with my exercise regime. And then there's my diet. Holiday baking, extra drinks and snacks all adds up to a rather unhealthy lifestyle, so it's no wonder I have been struggling a bit lately.
Recently, I shared a few of my poems with a group of 160 women. It was a huge leap outside of my comfort zone but it also gave me confidence in my writing and the positive feedback was incredibly heartwarming and rewarding. I'd like to share one of the pieces I read from that evening. It is a piece that is close to my heart. There's a cliche of the angel on one shoulder and the demon on the other, but I think it's more realistic to realize that we have darkness on both sides and it's only through looking up and past ourselves, to God, that we will find the help and love we need to move forward.
Crow and Raven
Here I sit,
with this raven upon my shoulder.
Precariously perched on the other is its brother, the crow.
Both cunning yet craven,
feathers creaking as they shift and blink
beady black eyes
at each other over my head.
Beaks clack.
Open. Shut. Open.
They call, croaking,
quarreling, conniving.
I starve this midnight pair,
refusing to feed my fears to fools such as these.
You brazen bullies,
Leave me be.
Return to your horde, you Raven.
Return to your murder, you Crow.
Begone, you cowardly, cold hearted, carrion.
Carry on.