“sometimes the night wakes in the
middle of me.
and I can do nothing
but
become the moon.”
-Nayyirah
Special things come along for many reasons. Sometimes they’re very important reasons. This poem was a coincidental meeting. I was on Instagram, reading, and looking at a variety of posts. My only true indulgence, for TV and other news feeds don’t interest me that much. Social media can be a fun way to share, learn and even get inspired. While browsing through Brene Brown’s page, a serious of short poems caught my attention. The plain and smooth words fused a mighty voice. Oh, how they spoke to me. They swirled and danced, and moved the salty rivers within. They understood me. They knew me… A gentle but eager force grabbed on to the thing that was darkened by the night of me. It was now becoming more visible, more clearer. I recognized it. Creativity. Passion… Write! Write woman! Write! I must write. I must do more with this thing that never subsides. My mind always writes. I drive– I write, I sit- I write, I run- I write, I sleep- I write, I dream- I write. I don’t stop it. I dare not to mess with my nature anymore… Words are magic. Millions of combinations. A thought, an emotion, a picture… a story. And so I write…