Wounded – A poem

Wounded – A poem

In 2011 writing a memoir was the furthest thing from my mind. But nearly every evening while I laid in bed, kids at my side and husband sleeping down the hall, words, phrases, full poems just poured out of me. It felt as if an invisible force danced my fingers across the keyboard like miniature puppets. I didn’t know what to do with my writings at the time. I just gave it the space to be heard, then stored each one away. Most of these poems are dark, sad, even overwhelming. They are also an accurate reflection of my state of mind as I faced divorce, dissolving assets and a disintegrating passion. Much time has passed and many events have transformed my life since these grey days and today I hold this work like a mother would her crying baby – gently, quietly, unconditionally. By far, the hardest question I was ever asked is “What do you want?” I sat in a room with over twenty highly creative artists, educators, coaches and musicians as we  asked each other this one question over and over for twenty minutes. What I wanted most was for everyone to stop asking me. I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted the wound the question opened up to be healed.Later that evening this poem was born… . . WOUNDED There is no pain that compares to this, this lack of want.   This undirected path that carves a lonely road. This uncontrollable fire that chases an infinite void. This unresolved force that spins a feral tornado. This lack of want stings at my...