It’s not that I have not been writing. It’s more like I have been editting in between visits from much loved friends, cooking, feasting, playing Scrabble matches to the death. Then it was May and the garden burgeoned and nature said, No time for pen play! Pay attention to me! It was most persuasive. But still, the pen and the notebook were there and the notebook was nearly full. Time to fill the final few pages. And despite the call of domestication, my wild mind chomped at deadlines and potential themes.
Only push the pen.
After a long pause
only push the pen.
Be patient. Before long
you will find once again
your tongue, your teeth,
tone and inflection.
Just flex the finger, that miracle
of the opposable thumb.
Only push the pen
across the page,
rest against this paper,
the pulp that was once
living tree, with roots
that still may live.
Find teeth, tongue, tone.
Flex the finger bones.
Only push the pen,
making it be alive.
Tap root. Live again.

I love this poem! It would be a great one to put on the cover of my writing journal to inspire me to get writing!
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