I had no words...

I have writers block, completely unable to write anything beyond a ransom note in 10 days.  Some might say that is a blessing, but I have to write.

It is the grease for my wheel

My perfect wave

Open heart surgery without having to use the paddles

Using a charge card without a message to "use alternate payment"

It's how I used to feel about being tan or getting on a scale

Writing is an outlet for pain, joy, or sarcasm....I love to string words together watching them dance in the wind, catching the moonlight just right....not so bright as to startle, but a bit subtle, just a glimpse.  A flirtatious giggle of words that remind you of the moment you met your true love......or saw a painting that took your breath away from the sheer genius of the strokes.  My writing is as comforting to me as the voice of a dear friend saying not to worry, it will be ok.

Writing fills my voids and adds to my strength so I can voice pain, concern or acrimony.  Writing is there when those around me demand I speak - not understanding sometimes I simply cannot.  And those words remain unsaid until I find a way to the keyboard to paint the page with words I couldn't say out loud.

The words I write are precious and need to be protected from harm or ridicule until I decide they are strong enough to live outside my heart.  Then I stand on the edge of the cliff holding the words close until the wind is just right to carry them into the universe.

And I watch while they soar.