Day 1: When One Door Closes: Open a door to the outside world. Step outside and write about it.
the part where you picked up and started again
The warmth of the sun wraps
around me like a blanket and
I have missed her.
The Marine put up an American
flag in front of my little porch
when he used to live in this apartment.
It’s faded now and torn in a few places–it
got caught in the twigs and limbs
of the shrubs growing beside it–but it still
dances in the wind.
I drive by my old office on the way
downtown–driving downtown to the show.
Everything is different, and nothing has changed.
I’m still waiting.
Still creating–still singing–still pouring my cells
onto the page,
but now there’s a white stone
I keep in my car, and the word
“freedom” is written on one side.
I roll the windows down and drive on.