Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Monday, October 02, 2017

October 2: Maybe the First Time

Maybe the first time,
some rhythm of song
resonated to your bones,
and you noticed you were different.
Or was it the shock
of a blow
that led to stars,
white stars that circled as spirals
into words only you could hear.
You became an observer,
watching, not dispassionate,
but once removed,
recording for some unseen audience
you knew would listen
to these words
that finally spilled out on the page,
well before laptops or i-pads or texts,
words that the heart knows. Sometimes
we write because we must.

I'm posting a little late with today's poem (and picture taken earlier this summer in Manito Park), for it's after 11 pm here on the west coast. A busy day, but OctPoWriMo's prompt for today was to free write for ten minutes stating, "We write because we must."  Click HERE to read what others have written -- and enjoy!

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