I find myself desperate for words. To type them, search for them, or rather let them fall into place like flakes of snow piling onto one another.
A full moon fever has come to visit me, alternating between hot and cold, clammy and shivering. A strange place to be setting down words.
Today I finish a program with women who brought me to a new place of truth and belief in the simple, the ordinary. Taking out the complicated so we may return to what we know deep inside.
I don't use big words, I would have to look them up to find them. My memory holds onto so little.
I see words piling onto multiple pages and then my jaw clenches wondering where the time will be found for their arrival.
My back aches as I remember I feel in the physical sense when I'm working through to a new place, a new knowing or time. Or simply releasing what has been.
Full moon fever.
Words longing to find their way.
Tonight, they rest here.