Literally paralyzed by grief
On my way to work
What do I do?
He sat in church and prayed
Watched little kids play
Heard the Word
Then opened fire.
I can imagine the confusion
Little girl plays dead
Five years old.
How did she know?
I can’t stop crying
Don’t ask me to
Bus comes 30 minutes later.
Board a bus
Full of us
The only place I’ll hear our grief today.
I’m struggling with blogging. I have never had a public blog before. I’ve never had a blog that was tied to my offline life. My blogs, in the past, have been where I come to write and receive feedback from people whom I have never met or only met through blogging. There is a freedom in that exchange. I can present my life, my world, my experiences to people who don’t know me. I can talk about whomever I want because the readers don’t know them.
This blog is different. This blog is promoted on my facebook page and in other circles I frequent. This blog is public and accessible by anyone. It’s silencing me.
How can I write about my notoriously private boyfriend when some of the people reading know exactly who he is, even if I give him an adorable code name?
How can I write about my experiences as a survivor when there is a chance that my Daddy might click on this link?
How can I write about that argument with my coworker when she could, theoretically stumble across this?
How much do I write about my daughter before I’m depriving her of her privacy?
It’s all become so complicated for me.
How do I write my story with no supporting cast of characters?
As a poet and a writer privacy has never really been a goal of mine. I share my heart, my mistakes, my fears, my nightmares. I do it as a way to process my life. I do it hoping that someone will see themselves in something I write and know that they are not alone. I write because it helps me be a better person when I contemplate my actions. I write because I need to.
I’m not sure how to move forward.
I’m hoping I can figure it out.