writer

 

By Edith Lazenby

I lost her last year.

I am not sure how I lost her. I stopped hearing her words sing to me at night as the moon find its way into the sky. I did not see her in a child’s eyes or kitten’s cry. When the snow fell I did not see her wink through the white haze and cold breath of winter.

I am looking for her though.

I am wooing her with attention and quiet. Now she is like a ghost of a love I used to know and hold. I think I see her shadow and realize it the way the light falls. Or a sound creeps into my field that sounds like her footprints and I seek to find her path so I can follow where she goes.

I have set up bells and wind chimes to let me know when she is near. I listen quietly for she can be subtle as wind when she wants.

And I close my eyes and plant a hope on her hearth that she remembers her love for me.

She thinks I have forgotten her but I have not. It is not like I went on a vacation or packed up and left her. Just one day slowly I drifted away. I got involved with life and people and lost the thread that keeps her connected to me at all times.

I cut the umbilical cord—she had become someone I no longer knew.

What I realize is now I have to start over with her and myself. I have to go back inside to meet her and find out once again what her needs are and how mine have changed….for it has been a long time since she inspired my heart, a very long time.

I am stronger. I am older. I am kinder.

I am less apt to go over some details in life with the same sense of need or desire. I feel like my needs and goals are clearer. I always say need is desire’s best liar.

Yes food and shelter always. I want to keep meaningful work in my life and learn massage. I want to bring my dreams back of telling a few of my stories in a memoir. I want meaningful relationships. I want a significant other.

I have a home after moving many times last year and I was new to the area a little over a year ago. So now is the time to tune into the details of sound and form: how my kitten purrs and how her milk teeth pierce my hands.

How the snow dazzles by reflecting light; how fresh coffee smells first thing in the morning.

Yes I seek the poetry in life with my Muse. And what is poetry, but words that resound with meaning. I believe Ezra Pound said it better but great writing is timeless and helps us feel or breathe or understand. So I seek writing that shows a new window—a point of view that shows you self in a way that broadens and strengthens.

I seek my Muse.

 

edith lazenbyEdith “Edie” Lazenby lives in Baltimore and teaches yoga. Writing is her first love. She enjoys a cup of coffee and being around people. Life is a celebration. Writing helps her celebrate.

 

 

 

Photo: mellifluousmoments/tumblr

Editor: Dana Gornall

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