I Am Writing This Poem

I wanted to write a short story for the month of October
But my mom says, “God bless you” every time I leave the house
And I think that’s so beautiful
Nothing like the spooky vibes that so rarely appeal to me
Steady
Constant
True, the words are innocuous after two decades of the same
But if I hear them, really
hear
them
They are all kindness and hopefulness and love
So much of the art that runs rampant on these pages
Is the direct result of my having a safe place to create
Not everyone has that, I know
Some people create in the wild chaos of things
And it looks and sounds and feels like magic
But I am not one of those people
I need my blue walls
Bookshelves
Wooden floor for dancing
I need my IKEA curtains pulled back to watch the falling leaves
To hear my soul in the quiet aftermath of happiness
So even though I will not be publishing a short story today
I am writing this poem to let you know where I am letting
go
as the leaves on the trees
Returning to the flow that is always right here
Within