Stoic River

Stoic River

Warm candles glow and flicker

warm and soft from all corners of my sanctuary.

I sit idle at my desk. Not a book cracked and no ink has been bled.

I come here to feel studious or stoic,

but underneath my mask of stillness,

there is a raging river flooding through my veins.

I am too afraid to take that path into the untold...

what if they don’t like me?

Note from the author: This is a poem about writing and how unnerving it can feel to write what you really feel. The truth is, not everyone is going to like your style or what you have to say... but, every story is worth telling.

Sometimes I sit at my desk or surround myself with books just to feel like I am a writer. I may not pick up my pen that day, but that's okay. The words come and they go... but when they come, I write them down. I don't want to be afraid anymore.