… Words
Like faceted diamonds
I pick one up
hold it to the light
gently turn
and roll against
my damp skin.
My fingers tremble
as I thread
them
one
by
one
stringing
precious
sounds
making beauty
meet meaning.
I wanted to write about the way that I spend hours looking at words before I put them together, and even then, unsatisfied, I pick them up again and shuffle the order. I do this so often, and probably to the detriment of anything I write.
I wanted to write about how hard I find it to even begin to write, because of the fear that I can’t do justice to my subject; how, as a perfectionist, I torture myself about how badly I’ve expressed something… how frightened I am that instead of a glittering diamond necklace, I come away with a cheap imitation, or a broken thread.
I wanted to write about the discipline of writing… writing without editing, plain, honest, raw…
Now I’m out of time.
ugh