The Writing Group

I am liking myself more these days.

I am buying new clothes and wearing brighter colors.

My eyes are softer and hold more tenderness when I look in the mirror. I believe it is because I’ve been stripped down like the walls in Gail’s kitchen, taken back to lath, beam and purpose.

I know this birth is a result of being in this group. This is the only place in memory where I have felt free to express all of me. I am held here. I have a blanket to wrap around me in your warmth, acceptance, love and language.

I did not expect a birth. I never came expecting such holding, but it was given none the less; the perfect place at the perfect time. I bow humbly and thank you from the remodeled walls of my heart.

written April 16, 2008

The Well

 In this group of writers I will be like a bucket dropped deep in a well.

The rope that holds the bucket is securely anchored so my plunge will be safe

and protected. The well is made of carefully placed stones forming a circle,

their collective a powerful expression a single stone could not equal.

It is often dark and unknown when I leave the familiar but I have learned to trust and descend where ever the pen allows. The bounty I find and retrieve nourishes me.

I offer it to each person, and they give in return.

I did not plan to come back this time. My body is tired and the drive is too far, but my heart pulled me off my resolve and delivered me straight to the well.

written October 1, 2008