Poetry

And I wrote in pen and pencil, on paper and on air

I wrote in trees and flowers and portraits when words were not there for me.

And I wrote with steel on my heart and I screeched the pen to the inner walls of my mind.

And I wrote in the wind of last summer and on the sun in the spring.

I wrote in the fabric of my dresses and the shape of my boots.

I wrote in sounds and in paintings, the stories of others

Rich stories of heroes and villains, of love and redemption.

But the words never came and there is nothing left…

All I ever wanted was to breathe.

“You write well!” said the teacher

“I want to publish your story!” said the editor

“I am proud of you!” said the mother

“I did not know you could write!” said the friend

“Congratulations with your prize!” said the neighbour

“She is my student!” said the teacher

“My sister writes stories!” said the little brother

“Will you give me a first autograph?” said the uncle

….

“How dare you! Who allowed you to write!” said the father

The end

Three!Two!One!Go!

You may breathe again!

Just don’t breath out your sadness here!

This is a place of words and thinking

Just don’t breathe out sadness again, alright?

Keep it behind your eyes

Because your sadness will meet my sadness

And when your sadness comes out, I am afraid it will crush me

and there will be nothing left

Just breathe again, alright?

Isle of Nines