Before the First Word
As I sit down
with my journal
a cream-colored notebook
with tiny strawberries
all over it
I feel
that same peculiar feeling
creeping in
when I pick up
my pen
and my journal.
I open
the worn pages
to a blank space
while that peculiar feeling
rises
from my stomach
to my throat.
Yet
I am silent.
All you can hear
in the house
is the sound
of my pen
scratching the paper
as I write.
It’s warm.
It’s exciting
to see what words
pour out of me.
I never know.
It’s a mystery.
The pressure
boiling inside
releases smoke
as I write.
I quiet
my inner critic
and trust
my creative voice.
I read
the stranger
who lives
inside me.
Each word
heals a part of me
that I can’t see.
I was born a poet,
and a poet
is what
I will be.