Writing's not a comfy chair
Alan Bennett said
And I thought
A person's not a house
Character's not clothes
Love is not a bunch of roses
A cloud really is a cloud
When is it not
And rain is just the rain until
The future forms
A flooded land
Whereupon we'll wade
Or swim while waiting
for a miracle
to come
Salvation is
Strong arms pulling me
from the wreckage pile,
A hero's heart who put to sea
in raging storms to rescue
those in peril running scared,
Gentle hands who guided
and is not
immune to fear
but more attuned to care
The writer's brain has blocked
Old pain, unspoken things
The writer’s chair is hard
and without wings,
No soft upholstered chair
with covered up supportive springs.