Wild & Uncaged - A Diary Entry

When I walk away from writing for long enough and then I come back, I feel so much emotion I could cry.

How does that happen? That I walk away from the very thing my soul came here to do?

I’m pretty damn consistent, and I need to be because writing is like my oxygen, but a family trip or a busy season can throw me off kilter.

The good thing is that the dam is open.

There’s no writer’s block keeping my tongue-tied. No. My tongue is sharp like a blade.

I just need to use it more often, and let go of my fear that it will cut.

Of course it will, but that’s not the point.

I refound my voice and I’ll never wonder what I sound like again because I’ll never stop speaking and singing and trying to find the right words to describe this precious human experience.

I’m inspired. One of the woman I admire most is a wild-uncaged-woman-poet named Chelsie Diane, and I adore her because she reflects back the truest part of me that I haven’t fully let run wild.

Chelsie is a wild horse who left captivity and never looked back, while I roam in big wide open pastures, mostly free, but enclosed by a discreet fence. I could probably jump it. But I stay close to home because I’m a show-pony and I’ve got a crowd of speculators counting on me.

Just kidding.

I’m not sure if that metaphor fully fits. Perhaps I’m more like a very long kite than a show pony. I’m flying freely, I’m gone with the wind (almost) but there’s still a tiny string keeping me tethered to earth.

I want to cut it float up into outer space