I write because I need to. Words flurry like a winter storm
almost grounded. I struggle with this:
to take a pen and make these shapes
that somehow soothe my soul,
speak my meaning--are my essence.
I write for the joy, but mostly for the sweet momentary cure
of this ache that’s unceasing--
the size of a small fiery kernel
near the base of my spine, close to my uterus--
of something born while still being formed:
Little drops. Little pearly precious drops.