The Letters Fall.

Limbo.
She sits staring into the computer screen.
Lost in translation.
Everything she wants to say.
The words are too weak.
The topics, to deep.
To dig it all out, leads to a chaotic mess.
One I'm too restless to sift through.
Just let me purge it out, onto the paper,
Let the letters fall where they may.
In the end, it will make more sense that way.
Since her hands aren't working.
Only for the dishes, the diapers, the cloth.
 Certainly not for satisfying expression.
 I tried to draw a woman's body yesterday,
 Came out like sticks and uneven planks.
 Scraped the sheet of paper in a breath.
 Stagnant fingers, and a wordless, dry mouth.
 A body and heart, full of dark and light.
 Pacing beneath the surface.
 A tidal wave of spirit.
 Pushing up, but resting still.
 Restrained creativity, my arch nemesis.
 So, I sat down, and wrote this dribble.
 Stamped it as a blog.
 Sent it to you.