Freedom and Gratitude

I used to breathe words from my heart onto a page each day

I inhaled my troubles, translated them and exhaled freely as they fluttered down into shapes in front of me

It was no pastime or call for attention- it was my stability and my sanity

My mind would not rest so long as I had not voiced my thoughts and flexed my mind into creating

It was a calling- a passion that struck me like no other- an addiction that I couldn’t let go of

My soul is hidden within the bones of my poems and the marrow of my words, and that is forever

But,

In time, things have changed

No longer am I solely solitary with my thoughts, and rarely do I dance so sweetly with words as I once did

But that is okay

My mortal crutch and the bearer of my heart’s hardships and loves is with whom my words reside

It is a burden that I cannot imagine to have to bear, but it is dismissed as a simple humanly thing to do

I’ve realized that although it takes time to piece lines together on paper, it is easy compared to having to organize emotions in thin air

Translation, understanding and much patience is required to withhold the intensity and ridiculousness of what sometimes may drift into my mind, but he trudges on and holds my broken pieces together when I’ve shattered

No matter how many ways I may try to say so and no matter how many times I have, there are no words to truly express my gratitude

To pain an ear with blubbering insecurities and repetitive uncertainties each day must be exhausting, but he’s not yet grown tired

To be an open book is to be me when I am with him- once something I could do only with a blank sheet in an empty room

So while I continue to compose on my own, it is no longer the only thing keeping my feet on the ground

Now when I share my words, it is not just with a bare page

For once I am sharing my thoughts and having thoughts shared back

Thank you