I am avoiding writing because there are things going on that I do not want to write about. It involves the story I never wanted to tell, the story that lies so far behind me I often convince myself that I've outrun it.
Even Max noticed and mentioned at breakfast that I don't seem to be doing much writing.
And then this morning, this from Mary Oliver's book, Dream Work.
You don’t want to hear the story
of my life, and anyway
I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen
to the enormous waterfalls of the sun.
And anyway it’s the same old story - - -
a few people just trying,
one way or another,
Mostly, I want to be kind.
And nobody, of course, is kind,
for a simple reason.
And nobody gets out of it, having to
swim through the fires to stay in
So, I'm still here, walking around with a pen in my hand, avoiding paper.