Monday, December 6, 2010

I Write.

For me, I write.
Like hot tears falling on soft cheeks, they flow.
Words may stop for a few seconds while I catch my breath
But soon enough they are pouring again,
rippling down from the top of my head, down through my throat
where I just had that lump from holding back tears
and they bypass my chest, passing right by my heart,
where the feelings are all bunched together.
They run faster, faster still
Coursing through my veins, up towards my shoulders,
where I often bear the weight of the world.
They fall down my arms,
which carry my babies
and they trickle through my fingers,
which lovingly pluck at the keys
Like a romantic sonata is being played.

The heaviness I bore within starts to release,
as I feel the thoughts, the words, and the letters
being played in perfect harmony.
It is my sonnet, it is my breath.

Starting as hail, pounding harshly
Turning to rain, as I process
Becoming lighter, lighter still
Soon it feels like snow,
falling gentler and gentler on the page

What was a mixed ball of emotions
that was hard to make out,
has now become a soft song
that suddenly makes sense.

For the writer has released her love
and it flies forth across the page.
It is not for the reader that she writes,
but for herself.
For it is her truth, her life, her voice
that often gets lost in the noise.

She is in love with words,
with poetry and song,
and as she lets it out,
she breathes new life again.

© 2010 Jaimie Bowman


  1. Love the part about the baby arms

  2. Thanks for sharing Jaimie! You put it to words so beautifully!!!

  3. I was looking for the "citation" on this and then realized it was from YOU! Beautiful my friend!

  4. Whoa!!!! Awesome, Jaimie!!!!!