Mine Alone

I struggle to make a poem out of my thoughts.

Words tumble and scrape inside my mind,
screaming to be cut loose from the chains that bind.

Yet, the perfectionist in me, bridles the poem,
Keeping it locked tight inside, binding it closer.

I pray, giving life to words.

Words escape to pen,
spilling out on paper, liquid thoughts.

These words, mine alone,
Breathe life onto what was once blank.

Letting go of fear that once held me prisoner

Do not look for meaning to your life by reading
My words, they are owned by me…alone.

Teresa Gale
8-16-09