Pridefully, I would not dare say I wasn’t inspired.
It’s with frustration and fear in my throat
That I fight against self-doubt…
or the realization that I’m not capable of it anymore.
Incompetent.
I am pregnant with you but fail to deliver at term.
Do I have to bury you so soon?
Has the dream of a culture built by you and I
Been a Myth all along?
Disillusion.
Was my new life not fertile enough
for me to grow from the pain
that severed me from what I once believed was
talent…or any skill that I used to exercise with intuition?
Horror.
Am I now condemned with a pen now turned leaden sword
I lack the muscle memory…or worthiness to carry and wield?
Why elude me after telling me I’ve healed?
Mysterious little…”Me”.
Intrigue.
© MFA. 2023
