The Voice of Inspiration – A Poem

You should only write if you’re inspired.

Her voice was

a balm to

me. She was

my touchstone, my

rock. I thought

of what she

said, of her

wisdom. I thought

of the endless

nights I had

spent trying to

see through the

fog that engulfed

me, of the

frustration of looking

at a blank

screen. It mocked

me like an

unblinking eye. I

tried to give

words to what

I was feeling.

I’m a writer. I can’t be a writer if I don’t write.

Her voice became

softer. It was

the voice I

always called to

mind when I

imagined her speaking

to me. Hearing

it was no

different. It was

instantly, incredibly comforting:

You will always be a writer, whether or not you’re writing. It’s in you, it’s what you do. It’s who you are. Let the words come on their own. They will come when they are ready.

I carried her

words home with

me, as if

they had a

physical form. When

I got home,

I was weighed

down. I put

my hands in

my pockets and

found they were

full of stones.

Each stone had

a word painted

on one side

in metallic paint

that looked like

water. I let

the stones fall

where they would

onto the floor.

Everywhere a stone

fell, water began

to spread from

beneath it, until

my floor was

covered in water

as deep as

an ocean. Looking

at all the

words shining from

underneath the waves.

Now that I

was no longer

weighed down by

them, it was

time to swim

into the water

and see what

the words had

to say to

me.

 

* Dedicated to my Wonder Mum, who said the words that shone through the water. 🙂