the friction of silence

by Anna Maria Hansen

 

 

~ ~ ~

I cannot write

words dried up, blood from a wound

fire quenched, only smoke left, wreathing

each thought silent prisoner, dragooned

Sitting silent

waiting for their return, birds frightened from the nest

Ears straining, the friction of silence audible

no sound of my words returning, no peace and no rest

I am speechless

fingers hovering, hoping to capture phrases

Like stealth, like hunter, watching for some sign

seeking words through the mindless mazes

I cannot write

creativity sapped, draining, dripping, drying

As a tree in winter, leafless, dead at first glance,

spring must come, melting words, I cannot stop trying

~ ~ ~

 

 



Part of being a writer is knowing that stretches will come, sometimes only a few hours, sometimes days, when words will not come.

Just empty pages, the cursor blinking palely on the screen.

The trick for me has always been sidestepping the writer's block, going around it, instead of trying to battle a straight-forward way over the top. I wrote the above poem on a night when I sat down at the computer determined to write for 20 minutes. I couldn't come up with a single useful line for my book, so I opened a new word document and typed the gospel truth, "I cannot write." And then proceeded to do just that.

Learning to understand (and accept) the silence of thought is a work in progress. I've often found that when I cannot work on a set project... doing something else is usually the key. Change the pace, the rhythm, the tone. When writing is impossible, read over what you've already written. Sooner or later, a sentence will stand out at you and resisting the need to tamper with it will be impossible. You'll be writing, even if it's only a few words.

Writer's block, I'm told, is all in our minds. Truly then, the antidote to it must be there as well.

"...I cannot stop trying..."