Poem without a name

My writing has been sporadic of late rather than routine. Yet when it has come it hasn’t been stories that have leapt onto my pages but poems. I don’t think of myself as a poet; it isn’t my go-to form. But when I do write it’s because I strongly feel something that I have to express right there in that moment – usually something personal. So it was today. I wrote this in a few minutes while waiting for a friend, also a writer, to join me for lunch. We discussed the fact that poetry seems to come as the purest projection of self.

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There is no beginning, so no new beginnings;

Just streams and flows of being.

I will not start over.

I will not leave behind.

I will not reinvent what I am.

 

Everything I have done matters.

Nothing that I do will erase.

All that I am – I am.