Starting

Half a century later I’m still waiting for my life to start
willing that clarity to seep through my pores in its mysterious way
I imagine a long list of questions finally to be answered and calm will settle over me like sandpaper dust
my rough edges smoothed and the introduction to me
the real me will occur
it will happen and I can take a deep breath and
with all the anticipation I have saved up like seeds in a diligent anthill
like the “good slip” in an elderly lady’s dresser drawer
I can stride forward to meet my life
finally starting

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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One Response to Starting

  1. kamilica2002 says:

    “…I can stride forward to meet my life finally starting”

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