Inspiration comes in many forms

I went out purposely to arouse the muse. She didn't disappoint me.

At the Mic

Yes, I am afraid.
My voice will crack.
The words I speak
will sound as foreign
as the announcements on a train
in Bangkok or Taiwan

Yes, I am afraid.
My voice will crack
as I utter truths
and falsehoods held as truths,
within my mind;
clear it is in their own
not so clear out of this room.

Yes, I am afraid.
My voice will crack,
but I will force the words
out of my mouth
and onto this page
until I see the story
bloom as a rose in my garden,
taking over its allotted space,
choking out the weeds
of discontentment,
freeing the echoes of that
something that wrinkles
the lines of my life.

Yes, I am afraid.
My voice will crack.
It is me
naked on the page,
for all to see.


© Catherine Woods 2018

Blue

Thanks to Cristy

The deepest oceans, the darkest seas
Your haunting eyes staring at bridesmaids
The blouse you wore last Thursday
Berries bought by the roadside
Aunt Amy’s house on McKinnon Street
The sky on the day I met you
A feeling after watching Forest Gump
The colour of the sheets on the bed where you passed away
A dog, a flower, a kind of chair
Raspberry popsicles bought on a whim in 1994
The handkerchief I found in the bottom drawer
The suitcase where I packed all your clothes
 Crescent Beach in April when the tide is high
and I’ve forgiven you for leaving me alone


© Catherine Woods 2018