August Heat

August has shown its teeth. I can feel it gnawing on the side of my head, the piranha pressure above my ear. I have read that I’m not alone in feeling at odds with myself. It’s in the air, the last of the pollen, the flowers screaming to the summer’s end. Do we all feel something changing? The season? Ourselves? I don’t want to change right now. I want to be calm and lick my healing wounds and curl up naked on the wood floor to cool off.

Instead, I keep working toward something that never ends and I’m tired. 8 hrs, 6 hrs, 10 hrs of sleep and no where in between do I feel awake.

I’ve been reading old journals to get to a place I don’t want to be again. Sickly, emotionally anemic and even now I worry that what I’m writing has no purpose. I feel insecurity painting internal walls and it misses spots like insecurity would – it’s careless in its work. What is a poem and who decides? What is art and who decides? Mostly I’m asking because I’m not sure – and I think that’s a bad sign. It worries me that I don’t know right now.Or maybe I do, I’m just too tired to answer, maybe all I can do is stare and drool. Maybe I just need rest. Maybe fall will have the answer I’m looking for.

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2 Responses to August Heat

  1. I think those with creative urgings, those with voices that speak in their hearts or their heads, need to be issued blinders, like horses…is it just for a certain kind of racing? We do ourselves no service by casting eyes left or right to see what the others are up to. This feels like a facing-straight-ahead assignment with only internal guidance. I remind myself often that the mocking, disparaging voice is not the true one; it has purchased amplifying equipment for otherwise it wouldn’t be heard at all. And it hasn’t been able to reserve one of the good rooms, it is stuck somewhere narrow and hot with a mildewed rug and no view. The authentic voice is lodged in the heart’s embrace and sings only comfort and appreciation.

  2. rachvb says:

    I’m still trying to learn and understand my voice. I don’t want to control it just to know when to really listen and when to turn it away. How to differentiate between the “authentic” and the “disparaging.” I do sense the difference and know them equally – but the disparaging voice has a way of taking over at times.
    I like your way of looking at this. The mocking voice is not the true one, not the authentic one. it gives me comfort. it’s also a comfort to know voices like yours exist in the world. it’s kind and poetic and as always, thanks.
    I have much to learn and always will – that for sure is a constant.

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