the poet's sanctuary

 
the poet's pull to write is a strong one
we long to be on point with every write
but if you're like me you find the muse is fickle
sometimes she just wants you to be you...no decorations
 
this is when I feel my most vulnerable
no pretty words to dress up depression
I've been homesick and I was feeling listless
my words were empty as they stared up at me
 
still, the urge to write prodded me
my muse seems to think I left her abandoned  
I will try and finesse a feeling to see what's really stirring
get into my reading make a connection
 
I really feel a bit lost without my words to hold onto
I'd lost my way among you
try as I might while I was struggling all poems looked alike
just words shouting at me for attention
 
the world has thankfully slowed down
I'm feeling the souls behind the thoughts sent out here
I can now see your faces clearer
your poetry is welcoming further inspection
 
so I come in carefully
not wanting to misinterpret  
calming as I go to not disturb the natural flow of the place
 
in your gardens of poetry
zen washes over me
I find myself home...finally