One of my greatest fears is to lose my sense of self -- To feel so suffocated and stifled, that the the most intricate parts of myself unravel. I strongly value being in tune with myself and over the last few years, I’ve found myself trying to pay more attention to the innermost parts of my being.
I have found that one of the most valuable, important aspects of myself is the ability to create and story tell in various medias.
As I was figuring out what to share this week, I found myself staring at more blank pages and running through dry ideas in my mind. The reality is that while I love to create, I’m in a season where there is a lot of darkness and dullness that kills my desire to create. But even in this season, I find it necessary that even with the blank pages and empty ideas I have to continue to force myself to create -- To continue to stay in tune with these intricate parts that are the framework of who I am. To continue to story tell, even if I feel it is not worth sharing.
the words don’t seem to come as easy anymore
and i find myself slipping further into the blank pages —
to be a poet with no verse,
to be a writer with no words,
to be an artist with no art
is to be stripped of the framework of one’s existence;
it is to be shed of the very skin that bears the weight of one’s being.
the words don’t seem to come as easy anymore.
i have been making mountain ranges out of the cracks in the ceiling
and becoming far too familiar with the backs of my eyelids
which hold no canvas for the thoughts that run rampant;
the words don’t seem to come as easy anymore
the ebony ink doesn’t seem to run as well
as the cosmic tears that are falling from my miniscule universe.
there is static and buzz,
the lack of
color
the lack of
light
the lack of
self
the words don’t come as easy anymore
and god, do i miss them.
suffocation - s.p.
Written by Sveta Petty
Photo by Two Kin Photography