A Poem Saved Me The page lay blank Wordless, muted. The ink dried to black dust. Write, just write. Your tears are ink filled, Black words ready to form. The pen scratched and scarred, The whiteness shattered. The first words burnt permanent. Write, let the words flow, Unstoppable, unquenchable. Each letter curved containing a heartbeat Still now, still now, still. Now. But the words beat a life rhythm, Still no more, revived. Write and the poem poured. A dam breached in flood, Unburdened at last. The waters lapped, Drenched in words and verse And I was afloat. Write, write! The words The rudder, the poem the raft. Adrift yet a direction re-found. Words comforted me. Sentences sustained me. A poem saved me. __________________________ Poetry saved me. A grand statement. Melodramatic? Perhaps. But in losing my daughter Milla in December 2016 I was lost, drowning. My depression and anxiety building. My grief unbearable. I rediscovered poetry. I began to write. I began to read again. It was my safe place, my outlet, my expression and comfort. So yes. A poem saved me. And still does.
