my words have gone
maybe the cat
soft gray fur
sharp claws
grumpy meeps
took my tongue when he died
and an angel uses it now

maybe the pandemic
stole them with
isolation
division
exhaustion

maybe it was
my old friend
comparison
arm-in-arm with
smallness
laughing and whispering
not enough
not enough
never enough

perhaps it was Instagram
sucking me in and
spitting me out
head spun
neck in knots
mood blue-black
with the futility of it all

my inspiration dry
as a crow picked bone
bleached by sun and heat
on parched earth
instead of the rich loamy forest
floor it once was

I am quiet
years of letting my words
lay fallow
finding my way
in new ways

then a flood
walking the dog
spitting a poem
into my phone
anger forcing its way
through my lips

another flood
sadness this time
words the only
balm

and I return
slowly
so slowly
to myself

a new voice
an evolution
of love
of identity
of hope

a restoration of
goodness and
potential

no guarantees
no promises
just this
just now
just me