I feel my life has grown small since Rob's death. I have not published many words as I don't want to share my grief, my anger, my confusion.
Marlene, dear friend, mentor invited me into her wild women writing circle. I wanted to join and yet I was frightened. Sometimes what comes out of my pen onto the page is too raw, too childlike, and I'm embarrassed. And I feel ridiculous that I am embarrassed. I have regressed and donned my solid coat of armour.
The writing circle - women from around the world - excites me, inspires me, calms me. I am beginning to feel that I belong. Several weeks ago, the topic was poetry. I am not a poet. I chose the easiest form, the Elfchen or Elevensie. First line has one word, second has two, third thas three, fourth has four, and fifth has one.
Mouth
Grows rusty
Fear robs voice
Leading a small life
Sob
Mouth
Rust forming
Frog croaking angrily
Is escape even possible
Hell
Mouth
Sweet lips
Refusing to open
Fear has frozen words
Help
Frog
In throat
Refuses to leave
Mouth slowly forced open
Escape
Rust
Corrodes jaw
Jaw needs oil
Oil squirted between lips
Freedom
Mouth
Grows rusty
Silent too long
Life becomes more difficult
Speak
I am not impressed by the above but when we split into pairs and I read, the other woman laughed and said you have to read these. "They're funny." (I wasn't trying for humour but I was the first to read - otherwise I might have chickened out.
Towards the end of the session, one sweet woman said that this is what she's here for - to hear other women's voices.