Getting my Mojo back

It is odd isn't it?  All the time I was in my 'happy' relationship I found I couldn't write very much.  I haven't quite worked out why I found myself empty.  Part of my identity, post-marriage, has been bound up with my ability to express myself, so what was I doing, suddenly frozen?  It's terribly easy to be wise after the event, after the relationship went wrong, so suddenly and so unexpectedly.



Was I kidding myself?  Did I revert to a form of myself that I developed when I was married?  I do hope not, but at this time when the pain of separation from a man I really rather liked burns through me, it is interesting that once again the muse is released.  It wasn't easy though, I had to have a few practice runs.  Getting my pen onto paper was hard - my poems are written in a notebook by my bed, often in green ink, which I'm reliably informed by DN1, I told her many years ago was the pen colour of the unstable.  There were phrases and sentences sketched out, some in the neat scrawl of my morning self, some more loose in form, late at night when clearly wine has been taken and the mind releases images for containment by words.  But none could quite form into something, like blowing bubbles from one of those childhood toys when the shapes sometimes burst suddenly.

Then, unexpectedly this morning it all came together.  I do feel better, the hurt that has been blistering my soul has found relief, a balm.  You could even say, a corner turned.

A Corner Turned

‘You’d be better with another,

Someone younger,

Or taller,

Lives closer to you’

Are the lies trotted out,

To cover the truth.

I thought it was you that I wanted,

Now I know you,

I don’t.

You’re not what I thought,

Too much, too little,

Too hard, too easy,

Too clever, too dim,

You’re not what I wanted at all.

I know what I want,

It's not you.

There’s someone who’s thinner,

Or fatter,

Brighter or not,

Dark skinned,

Light spirited,

A friend from the past,

New on the block.

Who’s come round the corner,

Into my view.

So just go away,

Forget all we had,

The promises made,

Weren’t real, you must know,

Just the heat of the passion,

That cooled as it must,

When you gave what I wanted,

Then she came into view.

04/02/2013