Writing with Anxiety

Strange. A ping in my chest, and there it is. I don’t typically feel anxiety when I sit to write, but low and behold, damn it. I’ll see what this is going to tell me and let it be.   I’ve felt a loss of words recently, and this being my greatest outlet outside of prayer…

Growing with Spring

In front of me a Bear plays with fallen leaves and branches, and the sun is bright nearly overhead now; having dilated my eyes this morning, I’ll surely have to go inside once the shadow I’m sitting under fades with midday sun. For now, the cub likes too much to be outside, and I blame…

In the wind.

The world was still last night. I sat in the quiet and felt held down to the earth, uneasy in the way everything held its breathe. This morning a wild wind rages through the trees, just beyond my window to the right branches sway and dead leaves drop; I understand the wind, the way it bends the trees, comfortable…

Resistance & Grief

Resistance is a bitch. I’ve felt the desire to write for days, but each time I’ve sat at these keys, I am driven to torment – nothing meaningful comes out; I am not accustomed to this because these blank pages are where I pour out my heart. Without this outlet, I am sure to go…