Super Moon

All day this sense of unease. Tears always on the verge of breaking, emotional walls no doubt softened by the arrival of those babies, the burgeoning life in the ground, and the way orphan puppy prances in the sunlight now even though no one gave her more than days. Unnamed feelings swirl through my innards and it is not until much later that I curl up in the privacy of my own room, in my own solitude, that words begin to form, labeling emotions and stowing them away in neatly organized compartments in my journal.

I needn't bore you with the details of what those emotions amounted to, the language they created. In the end, I suppose, it comes down to getting one's shit together. Take a deep breath, start over, get it right. Life is short, but we are never too old to do ourselves justice.

It seems like I should be fighting like hell.