Do you ever write something and truly have no clue where it came from, why the words oozed onto the page while you struggled to grasp their meaning, even though the need to write them seemed ever so pressing at the time? Oftentimes I think writers are a bit porous. We absorb our surroundings, whether it’s intentional or not. We ‘soak’ up conversations, attitudes, and the gestures of those around us. We see and then somehow take away warm pieces of sunsets, the fragrance emanating from fields of wildflowers and the pain and heartbreak of the suffering. Maybe we don’t realize we’ve even done so until words begin to find themselves pecked out onto a computer screen, making no sense to the writer at the time and yet trusting there is meaning.
I wrote this piece, still not having gained an understanding, believing there must be meaning in it I’ve yet to discover. It came out like water bubbling up from a natural spring.
The guiltless are full of treason,
Spotless, they’ll claim
you’d better know better
Their trust cannot be earned or gained
The fallout of their conspiratorial dialogue is evidence enough of their treacherous plot
Read the words they have tattooed in their eyelids
Do you still doubt?
Fine then…Follow them like sheep to slaughter
Fickle, bickering, hollow of heart
I am unsettled by this knowledge
You should be, too
I couldn’t even title it because of my uncertainty – maybe you can suggest one? Anything of meaning come to you when you read it? Love to hear your thoughts on unsolicited material that pops into your mind – just what do you do with it?
(Image courtesy of Microsoft Clipart)