Day 28 of 31 Days in July, “Leaving the Nest”

Day 28 of 31 Days in July
The TBI Collection of the PTSD Poetry Project

“Leaving the Nest”

A little girl sits

Pencil and paper in her hand

Pictures come to life

A little girl gets older

Fingers press hard on keys to type

Words begin to form on paper

A little girl ages

Words became all she had

Expressed emotions she could not feel

Written thoughts about secret things

A little girl thought she was broken

Discovered she was healing

In fits and spurts

Until healing caused a surge like no other

The roar was overwhelming

Inside she was still a little girl

One whose head had been filled

With dreams of safety

Thoughts of finally being free

All of this roared forth

It came out all at once

A rushing like a fire hydrant opened

It’s water pouring out into the street

No reason

No control

Until the valve was found

To finally direct it at a specific source

Fingers flew across the keyboard

Crafting, creating a world like no other

From inside her head this

Came out in a rush to be read

Words to be spoken from her mouth

She was no longer cracked

She was no longer fragile

She had become healed

Fingers direct a pencil across a screen

Images come to life

Glowing in a way like no other

Finally the stuckness inside the girl’s head

Had broken free

It had been a dam

Created to be a safe place to dwell

But now it was time to fly free

To create, to write

Without limits

She has finally left the nest


July 28, 2016

Personal journal

      Art, writing is all interconnected in my life. I have memories of painting and drawing all the time when I was a little girl. If I was bored there was always pencil and paper. The pencil would stroke the page and come alive whether it was a crude sketch or words the page would come to life. Watercolor paint was even more fun with it’s unexpected explosions of color along the paper. Now it’s a bit different as it’s all digital. Things come alive in different ways now, better ways. It is as if I can finally get what has been stuck inside my head to come out to be seen. So many images live inside my head pushing against each other trying to get out.

       I bring them to life with a digital pencil in my hand. What began as simple question “if you could have your dream machine what would it be?” And answering it with a list has turned into an amazing deeper love of my inner creativity. I embrace it with such joy and sometimes, most days, hours are lost to it.

     The writing had been simple in most ways. Touch typing was a skill learned as a freshman in high school close to forty years ago. I can type nearly as fast as most people can talk. Typing wicked fast to keep up with my thoughts as they’d fly through was fairly easy. However the organization of them after brain injury was a difficult task. But it was also a challenge I put forth to myself. Write whatever it was I needed to write about and then put it out there for others to read.

      The years during the time I never left the house except for specific appointments I wrote. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Even if I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth or physical write them I could type it out. All the frustrations put out there to share with only those in a protected space formed by what had formerly been my ‘own’. Everyone there had my back in a way I’d never experienced even years ago. No one was allowed to be hateful, or snarky and if they were? Immediate action was taken.

      The transition out into the world was an astounding experience. Honestly it’s been scary to fly on my own without the constant buddy at my side to keep me on my course. Has it been worth it to leave the nest so to speak?

      Yes it has.


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