Posted in art, poetry

Back

Back  I whispered it when you turned your back, back to the party. I watched you throw back that shot and clench your teeth, head spinning, backwards stepping into the coffee table.  I lean back into the wall, arms hugged to my solitude, holding what you didn’t hear against my stomach.  You’re across the room now, back with the ones I’ll never be. Her smile.   It’s too late to go back in time, for you to hear what I said, the words dispersed into fog, droplets of sentiment clouded by reticence, the rain that wouldn’t drop, stubborn background mist to wade between.   I promise I said it. I’m sorry.  Please come back to me.

Well, I’m back. For the first time since starting She’s in Prison I feel the need to say I’m sorry to all of you. I appreciate your support and I fear I let you down with my disappearance.

Life’s been a struggle. I recently started a new job and have been transitioning into that role. Also my grandma died a little over a week ago.

I’ve felt overwhelmed and honestly, I haven’t felt like writing. I’ve stared at the same blank page for two weeks. I couldn’t move my hand. Just stared.

But here I am. I’m trying and I thank you for listening.

–Leanne Rebecca

Advertisements

Author:

Poetry and music.

20 thoughts on “Back

  1. Sorry to hear about our grandmother. A death in the family is always a hard time to bear. But overwhelmed or not, you seem to be rising above it. That speaks to your strength of character. Welcome back.

  2. Good to see you back, but be easy on yourself – the death of your grandmother is a matter of deep grief, I’d imagine, so take time to grieve, care for yourself and be patient. Recovery after the death of a loved one is entirely a matter for you and timelessness.

  3. Remember this when going through the hell that glibly called ‘writer’s block’ by people who never created anything: It’s art; it takes time, effort, sweat, and a little blood. You’re giving birth to something from deep inside of you.

    If it was easy it’d be called manufacturing.

  4. I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother. My grandma is very sick right now, and we don’t think she’ll be with us much longer.
    Good luck with your new job. I recently started a new job, too.
    I know what it’s like to have to stop blogging for a little while. I’ve been running out of ideas lately and haven’t been able to think of what to post.
    Writing always makes me feel better, but I know it’s different for different people. If writing doesn’t make you feel better right now, do whatever does make you feel better until you’re ready to write again.
    Take care.

  5. Leanne,

    I am sorry for your loss…so very sorry.

    I remember when my wife’s grandmother died – the closest thing I have ever had to my own grandmother. She was my friend, among so many other things. And, while the pain is reduced over time; the hole that is left never seems to get smaller – and I am not sure I’d want it to. I want to remember the conversations. her love, wisdom, and smile – which are never going to be replaced. I have this little thought that the fabric of our lives needs to include these holes, which is part of what makes us, us.

    Phil

  6. I know how this feels. My dad died in December, six days before Christmas. I am still wondering if I’ll ever be able to write anything good again. It feels like I never will.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s