The Writer in Me

“the writer in me.”

The writer in me is laughing

The writer in me is free

The writer in me puts pen onto page

& feels like the whole world is singing.

The writer in me is breathless

Watching the words drip smooth

If what we have here is all we believe

Then where are the facts and the truth?

The writer in me is angry

The writer in me grows cold

The writer in me throws caution to sea.

& tears into skin and to bone.

The writer in me grows weary

Struggles to draw a deep breath.

There are places I’ve seen before this,

where ebb and flow has depth.

The writer in me falls quiet

Silent as grave and as death

If words spoken out have no matter now

Than what is the purpose of them?

The writer in me is screaming

Its voice can finally arise

When injustice and pain fall to pieces

Then freedom and hope combat lies.

The writer in me is wond’ring

If others are still to be found

If you trying to steal the voice are for real

Then it’s my turn to stand, unbound.

What truth without belief, & “facts” without seeing

Makes for more work than stories being told.

Watch & see.

Copyright 2021, Sierra Mackenzie