New poem

Here is my latest poem. It is inspired by a friend, who used the title phrase in the context of a story in such a way that it really stuck with me.

I tried a few new and different things with this one, based on the emotions I was trying to grasp. Pretty happy with how it turned out, and feel a new freedom to experiment, which is nice.

The Wind on my Face

I sat in the sky, teetering.

I traced my life with a finger

and felt nothing

but the wind on my face.

With help, I burrowed

bewildered,

back down to sad faces,

and incomprehensible

me.

Feeling nothing

about anything,

I blinked like a cursor,

in and out of being.

Until I drew my mind,

in big, looping arcs.

The crunch of pencil lead

said, ‘I’m still here’.

I started then I stopped.

I cut       word,

and that      ,

because sometimes you need a blank         .

I threw out my plot.

I ransacked my rooms.

I killed my characters

and cut and cut and cut and

I threw the pieces away.

I shook with fear,

but the wind I felt on my face

and I don’t remember the rest.

I held my template,

ran my hands over it,

for what felt like the first time.

But it couldn’t have been.

I poured in colour without consequence,

and while it had no meaning,

it was mine.

When my thoughts and feelings duel

and I feel myself rising,

I can happen on a

pause, delivered by

nothing

but the wind

on my face,

and it brings me back down.