Red incoming

ıllıllı Listen to this poem

Close your eyes and feel the red—

that’s what I do now

A lizard recharging itself,

cell by cell soaking up all the rare energy

The color starts out a light orange

before quickly deepening into a bright fire engine hue

Ripples of light dance on the surface,

like sunlight on water

These days, simply leaving the house can feel like a herculean accomplishment,

as if I need a reason to put one foot in front of the other

— like something to buy

or someone to see, for instance —

But a simple walk can yield surprises

and the sun is reason enough

My thoughts dance around like the flickering red

movie screen saturating my lids

Sitting still with them,

that might be the hardest part

Humans, ladies and gents,

complicating even the simplest of tasks

Always finding new mountains to climb,

inventing new problems to solve

Come back to the red

Take it

A shock of vitamin D

straight to your system

Direct — unlike the inspiration that now needs to be

coaxed out through sheer will and discipline

I believe it was the ancient Greeks who credited their creative failures and successes to muses,

those mysterious forces of creative inspiration

Takes the pressure off,

doesn’t it?

Muse, oh muse, where art thou?

How can I call you back?

Give me something to feel,

to say, wash me clean of my sins

Because, I must confess:

I often write with the intention to share

A sign of attention or validation seeking? Perhaps

Or maybe it’s just about wanting to create and feel seen

In the same way that I close my eyes to see the sun,

the poem then is the moment of opening

A question, gently posed,

Did you feel it too?