A Journal Entry

Some time after I decided I wanted to use my gift again, but then had realized I had lost that gift due to lack of use, I wrote this journal entry (you can find this and others like it here or my better & other current poetry persona and focused site here):





I was supposed to get to bed early tonight. And while it's not late yet, I've let the hours of the evening slip away. Instead of relaxing on the couch, I sat at my computer, perusing poetry. This evening I was hoping to gain some more insight to different styles, and perhaps some inspiration. I am trying to prepare myself to write. To write for a friend, to write for myself, actually...to just write.

What I do not tell my friend who implores me to write for him...I am scared to try. When I look back and see all I've written, biased though I am, I know it is good. I am scared to sit down, put pen to paper and find words will not come. Or even if they do, that they do not come easily, or well, or flow as smoothly as they once did. I once called it my curse, now I am afraid I have lost my gift.

Sitting here, writing this, is one thing. But to look deep inside myself and not know if words will come when I beckon...when they used to come so often unbeckoned and unwelcome? This isn't just something I did out of habit, it's not just something I can do on demand. It was more than my life, it was my soul as well. And I am afraid that if I have lost the words, thus I have lost my soul.

Once upon a time I could fill a notebook in seconds, whereas now, I could not fill a page in hours. Can anyone understand how afraid I am to look, to try to find the words again? How can I describe how agonizing it is to not know...to wonder...have I lost my touch...have I lost my soul?
~Silver
11/18/04