As a prolific author I often get asked:-
- How do you do it?
- Why do you do it?
- Where do you do it?
- For how long do you do it?
You know… in not so few words but similar.
There are answers but what came to me the other day was a poem that goes some way to explaining. So here it is… and please… interpret to your heart’s content…
To write… a muse
by Sarah Lynch
A puncture in my chest you remain
A healing embrace you also are
Yet I find it difficult to absorb you
I skim the surface because you hurt
I see clearer when I see through you
I breathe harder when you remind me
I shake out the strength that surrounds
Cascades along my entirety in droves
I clench a fist and it gathers there
The will of my command, my drive
The energy, not the words, escape
They explode into matter from nothing
A dream to create, plunder and expatiate
A heart so solid, so stony though flourishes
You wild rivers you, swirling, amassing,
You gather within to expunge my self
She broke the barriers, undid the bonds
She chipped me down, broke me open
She, vile and tempestuous, sought me out
Forced me to yield to her in empathy
The lives of many explored by a scribe
The whispers of existence all at odds
The voices swirl, fold, join and mingle
To make one, loud noise.
To ignore it… impossible
© Sarah Michelle Lynch