Words in a Row
I say I’m a writer and those words line up beside me, solid, soldiers, and I must tilt my chin, upward, and command. Stand by them. Pretend to everyone … in every instance… that that statement means the very same thing.
And now, when I think of the ‘business’ of writing, of publishing, marketing, it brings tears to my eyes – something so, so removed from what I feel about writing. And yet, if I accept that this is my ambition, my goal, I must take responsibility and accept that now this is my ‘game’ and take responsibility to stand behind my work and themes and yet…
Words wind themselves down from …….corners of rooms witnesses to drunkenness and boring domestic scenes of dissatisfaction, acceptance and steady, windborne love. We are shorn of impertinence, shorn of immediacy, immaturity, expectancy. We take kindness. Shield ourselves from the wrong that is like a tidal wave, upturning, inundating, destroying, everything in its wake.
We can wake.
We can walk.
We can love.
Overcome. Retaliate. Placate.
We can change. We can optimize. Be honest. Shed. Stand face to face. Support. Man to man. Hand in hand. Lover. Visitor. Stranger. Future…