Tired Creation

 

My energy is thin today

Barely stretching across the hours

My creativity feels like a room

Where the lights flicker

Where my pen drags its feet

And every sentence tastes like dust

I sit here, frustrated

Asking myself why I feel so slow

So unfocused

So unlike the fire-born woman I know I am

Why can’t these thoughts

A thousand birds beating their wings

Inside my chest

Fly in the same direction long enough

To paint a picture worth keeping?

Why can’t the longing

The loving

The wanting more

Spin themselves into something beautiful

Like they used to?

But even in this stillness

In this heavy, hazy air

I whisper gently to myself

You are not lazy

You are tired

You are healing

You are gathering the pieces

Of a woman who refuses to quit

And maybe today

The words come out crooked and bland

But they came

And that, too

Is creation