It’s been so long
since I’ve done
what I should do,
daily,
that I’ve almost forgotten
how;
I’ve almost forgotten
why;
I’ve almost forgotten
who I am.
Because I became
because I did
what I was asked.
Because I struggled
even when the words
weren’t flowing.
Because often
the mere fact of
doing the thing
that you’ve been told to do
is what you need
to discover
and maintain
who you are.
So once again I launch
back into my Obama-era goal:
Write
and blog
a poem
or prose piece
each day.
The words may not be
insightful
or deep
or moving.
Or they might be.
Most importantly,
they will be
and are
who I am
and who I will be,
so as long as I write
and post
and am,
I exist
much more deeply
than I ever did before.
Maybe that’s why I feel
as though I’ve gone
into hiding.
Look out!
