There’s a secret place within
me, and long well I’ve known it.
A hidden, sheltered space where
light and shadow dance with my Muses.
Only here am I safe, if no
less confused, daunted, or frightened.
This ephemeral haven is where I write
words that save my sanity, my life.
Both comfort and sustenance, read
or written, words fill my life –
More, they fill mind when mouth
is vacant and lips are silent.
I write because I must;
I write because it is my way,
because it is my only way:
Writing is how I learn and
how I think, the way I
learn how I feel about what I think.
Write to remember, and to forget,
to awaken dormant memories, deeply slumbering.
I write lest I forget.
Sweet dreams hidden beneath surface
take wings of freedom upon page,
while dark desires and urges curbed,
released to flowing ink, are washed away.
This is my battle:
I struggle to cope, and demons thwart.
My pen is weapon, paper my shield,
while Muses draw me from my
darkness into my light, granting