Thursday, August 23, 2007

yes, I am procrastinating, thank you for noticing.

I write this song for you
because you don't know me
and I need for one person,
just one person in the world
to truly know me

of course I am scared,
of what you will think of me,
when you are knowing me so
but I am more afraid of never being known at all

of being dust and dirt and memories
and never having anyone know me

I heard it whispered on the wind
ssshhhh, our lullaby begins

it's filled with people and places
we don't know
but within are written
the lines of my soul

the water smoothing the jagged edged stones
sunlight blown, flown, through my bones
whisper, whisper, whispered
in hush soft tones

you would think that feeling this way about a story, I would spend every spare moment working on it. But clearly I don't. I can't say if anyone will ever read it, ever like it. But I know I need to write it. I know I would be incomplete if I died without completing it. I don't like things mattering to me that much (except for my son). Still I lazily procrastinate around it, dawdling, doing this and that for it, not ever really leaving it, for I take it with me everywhere, whether I intend to or not, it lives within me, but lately I am never sitting down with it, with intention, to finish it, to truly take this joureny, not just look at slide show pictures of it, in some odd rickety, long brochure, my imagination likes to spread out for me. Shouldn't I get ready, gather everything I need, whack my fear over the head with a shovel, and steal courage from other people, and set out, begin, take this journey.
For then, I at least, would be one, one person in the world, who truly knows me.


Vesper said...

What a beautiful poem, Taffiny!

About your story - maybe you don't really want to finish it, because what gives you real pleasure is writing it, living in it forever. What would happen it you finished it? A big empty place, difficult to fill with something else. What you could try, though, and I'm telling you this from my own experience, would be to write other stories in parallel, short stories that you can finish, intense little things that can also give you the pleasure of seing something complete. Try it. It's an amazing feeling, just to walk away after writing the end.

Taffiny said...


I can't even imagine that amazing feeling, the one of having finished something, walking away after writing the end.

I am going to hold that in my mind, and think over it for the next couple of days, turning it over, like a prism cut to catch the light, and hold that out, as something I need to feel. An experience waiting for me to walk toward it.

It is true, I am afraid of going on without the story living inside me, we have been together so long, but I also now believe, that even after I have written The End, and walked away, this story, these characters and I, will still be entwined.