The Journey Inward

Writing has always been there for me~
a source of joy, comfort, strength, 
creativity, thinking, processing,
growing, witnessing, validating,
sharing, expressing, marinating,
and ultimately metabolizing.

But sometimes, words fail me.
I have nothing to add to the conversation.
Or I have too much. 
2025 has been like that for me.
Most recently, the events in LA upset me terribly,
and then ICE came 
and took members of my own community.
Our families scattered and stayed inside.
Our students didn't come to school.
I felt nausea and impending doom 
on a daily basis.

I went to see Come See Me in the Good Light,
and couldn't write about it for a week.
The rights that are being stripped from our citizens
scares me, worries me and crushes my soul.

What to say?
It's hard to write a poem about flowers,
when my stomach is in knots.
It's hard to write about what I am seeing and feeling,
because we are a nation divided,
and I don't find people willing to converse respectfully.
I'm stuck without the written word,
and it makes me feel a bit lost.

I yearn for us all to connect,
debate, discuss, and listen!
I want to hear about love, tolerance, experience,
acceptance, inclusivity, and people's personal stories.
But it's so hard to have these conversations
when we seem so far apart.

I began writing again last night,
and it felt wonderful to be back in a routine.
I hope I can keep writing through the tough times,
the disturbing times, the uncertain times.

Photo:  One of my favorite t-shirts