I Wrote

I was not alive
until I wrote my own birth
to start writing death

I was not yet dead
until the pen left the page
and I found silence

If nature made me
then I will remake nature
and claim my new birth

I grew to fill pages
and shrunk to become a word
yet never changed

I learnt cruel freedom
and loving cages barred
all fearful, unknown

I drew my own map
devoid of directions home
but all seen was mine

When I returned
the ink was stained to nothing
and I found no path

I found a new page
still blank and all unmarked
but I had no more

Confronted with space
I wept deleting tears
and lost even hope

I prayed and hoped
for new words you would bestow
but we both lost faith

We had no story
but in time we told ourselves
a new type of tale

For more from me you can check out my collection No Cure for Shell Shock – available in paperback and digital formats. Or you can try any of my other work here – variously available as ebooks or paperbacks. 

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