For the most part my resurgence in posting as of late is just me diving back into myself.  Allowing me a chance to be me for a while and to work with something I love.  Words.

My love affair with words started when I was young.  Very young.  When my older brother started reading I was outraged that I wasn’t reading too… so I learned.  Then I started stringing words together.  Sentences were fine.  A paragraph was well and good but when I was a child I enjoyed building a collection of words to make a point or to make a cadence I was pleased with.

A few years later and there I am with a composition book tucked into my bag at all times writing poem after poem.  From the age of ten to 22 I wrote poetry non stop.

Now wait a minute, no.  I never said it was good poetry.  I just said I wrote it.  I was compelled to write it.  I stopped writing poetry about 11 years ago.  I’ve had a few upticks where I would write for a week and then stop, but it is something I miss about me.  So I’m diving back in.

Today I’m just taking a peek at some things I’ve written in the last couple of years.  Luckily it’s a small bunch to sort through.  But to begin my re-acquaintance with the form of writing I so dearly love?  A poem I wrote last summer.

From the rooftops
I would see more than I can imagine
I would know more than I would wish
I could feel the wind in my face
In my hair
The air stealing my breath as it rushes
Too fast to inhale
Suffocating me as it whips past

From the rooftops
Amazing things are possible
But the distance I would fall, kills.