If I Did Not Write

If I did not write, I would
have
been sympathy for
family.

If I did not write, they could have
cried on
their partner’s shoulders
about how they could have helped.
Or,
if they could have.

If I did not write,
a rope might not hang so loose;
a ground may not be hollow;
a sister
may miss another sister’s voice.

Instead,
I become ferocious.
Ravenous.
I let ink seep out from under
bitten fingernails to
stain swollen
pages of life.

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16 thoughts on “If I Did Not Write

  1. I hardly ever actually respond to things for a lack of time (and you’ll see why in a second), but I have to carve myself five minutes out for this one. You’ve perfectly captured the exact reasons why writers like you and I do what we do. Without the freedom that words express, we cannot tackle the toughest subjects that would literally drive us insane or to death. The feelings that we would otherwise keep totally concealed from the world would surely make our lives a living hell if we didn’t have some sort of avenue to vent them. I’m a musician as well as a writer so, in that manner, I’m going to try to vent myself and see if anyone else can sympathize. The heavy music community tends to take a strange kind of a shine to emotional music so that’s what I’m relying on. You have another path in mind, surely, but we see on the same level. Without writing, our lives would have been much shorter and been called “tragedies.” Instead, we’re both aiming for something more and have in fact become more just by staying alive. Let us both stay alive and keep writing, miss Maggie Mae.

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